Estel Hiruvalye
by Saturnian Blonde
Summary: When you are the last of a lost race, who do you trust? Do you hide yourself to survive, or risk your soul to help those in need? Do current friends come before lost family? Do you risk love knowing it will not last? One being's search for answers...
1. I Eala

Estel Hiruvalyë  
  
(thou shalt find hope)  
  
  
  
Yeah, okay, so this is the first Lord of the Rings story I have thought to write, and it probably sucks (no, don't run away yet!), but I'm writing it anyway! I'm not even gonna pretend I know what I'm doing including Elvish in the story, but I will say beside it what I MEANT it to mean, at least. 97% the elvish will be Quenya, since that's the one I'm familiar with, and I don't give a crap about no grammar either, lets just stick to "look up, put there, maybe mix 'em around so they look pretty." [note the sarcasm.]. Hopefully I get reviews! Cause they make us all happy! ^_^ so, um… please read it and tell me how much it sucks!  
  
  
  
  
  
1 Chapter I : Ëala  
  
2 [spirit]  
  
"Fly, you fools!" Gandalf cried before his hands slipped, and he fell into the deep darkness of the abyss below.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I lay on a flat, hark rock, gazing around Dimril Dale. The warm sun glowed steadily overhead, and I sat there, perfectly contented for the time being. A qualm of misgiving and misery hung around the air, the sun's warmth barely succeeding in cutting through this unwelcome feeling that sought it's way into me. I pushed it aside as best I could, trying to forego all the negative feelings that I knew would someday surround all of Middle Earth. The feeling eventually settled into my heart as a cloud strayed in front of the sun, shadowing the plain in darkness compared to the sun's light.  
  
I sat up, knowing that I would not be able to shake this feeling of dread until I could converse with Mithrandir. I looked again back to the mighty stone doorway of Moria, carved what seemed to be millennia ago from the mountain's face. Here I sat, for the past week now, watching and waiting for any sign of Mithrandir and his fellowship, the partnership that carried the One Ring. I knew them to be close, for even as I sat here, I could feel the pull of Sauron's creation.  
  
For the past 2 days, I have not been able to rest. Sleep has been filled with the most horrendous dreams I could have ever imagined. And I knew that, with the approach of the Ring, they would only get worse, until I could find a way to block them out. I hoped that I would never see it, never mind it come to me. I feared what would happen, if I laid eyes on it. Perhaps it would kill me if I were to touch it, but compared to these countless years spent alone, death would be a welcome.  
  
No, the screams are a tenfold worse. Screams, pleas, accusations, they all haunted me to no end. The screams of my parents dying at the hands of the Ring, the pleas of the remaining lives as they were slowly hunted down and extinguished, the accusations of my people screaming of it all being my own doing and fault. They were worse than any death that could finally claim my life.  
  
Just last night, I felt the remaining of the Eärrámë perish. Ehtelë, the last people of the Water, was hunted down by the Nazgûl Lords. I felt as if I was drowning, as the remainder of her power was lost to the remaining two Spirits, myself included. How I shall miss her, my dear friend, one of the last friends I had of my people. Water was lost.  
  
I knew that Fanyarë, the last of the Vilya, and Urolóki, of the Nárolië, had also fallen into the sleep. Only Cemendur and I remained. But for how long?  
  
I drew myself out of my despair as I saw dark figures flee out of Moria. I slid of the rock and crept closer, concealing myself behind a large boulder, somewhat taller than my own short figure. Even with the concealing spell that Mithrandir cast, I still remained shorter than most, even compared to Elves and Men. I did not have the appearance of Men, yet neither did I fit in with the descriptions of Elves. I had short, silver hair that reached only to my shoulders, and my eyes remained the violet colour that had stood out for millennia. I did not have as pointy of ears as the Elves, yet I could hear and see as them when I really tried, which wasn't often, as it did take a lot of energy. The spell, however, did conceal many features that would have given me away millennia past, something I was grateful yet resentful of in the same moment. I am a child of the stars like all others. I have a right to be here, just as any Hobbits, Dwarves, Elves or Men do. Why should I have to hide myself in the shadows? Yet conceal myself I did, for it was perhaps my last line to safety, or whatever equivalent could be had in these dark times.  
  
I pulled my hood over my head and crawled up the boulder, peering over at the group of companions. Mithrandir had written in his letter that there was a fellowship of Nine, and that through dealings with the witchcraft of Saruman, they would not be passing over Caradhras. Instead, they would travel through the deep mines of Moria, a path that had held me in worry for some time. Dark tidings indeed must have passed if Mithrandir had to resort to that Pit of Evil.  
  
I counted the heads of the people who had exited the dark doorway, and counted the heads of four of the Hobbits, the little halflings that Mithrandir spoke so fondly of during his stories, and two taller silhouettes that must be Men. A short figure, taller that the hobbits and shorter that the men, must have been the dwarf, but that still was coming short of the number nine.  
  
« Mammen lende Mithrandir ar elda? » [Where's Gandalf and the elf?] I asked myself aloud, sighing heavily and closing my eyes as I turned around and slid down the rock to the ground. I opened my eyes again to look up the long shaft of an arrow, the pointed head inches away from my head.  
  
« Ela! Símenië i elda. » [Behold! Here's the elf.] A cold voice answered, and I finally tore my eyes away from the tip to look up. There stood the afore-mentioned elf, a tall male that had dark eyes fixed in a glare. His long blonde hair was partially pulled back, the sides braided to avoid being caught in an arrow or bowstring. He was obviously an archer, and my suspicions placed him from Mirkwood. He would have looked very handsome had he not an arrow pointed between my eyes and did not have such a fierce look on his features.  
  
« Amorta. » [Get up.]He said harshly, and I slowly pushed myself up, leaning lightly against the boulder to my back, careful not to hurt myself. He nudged me away from the rock with the tip of the arrow, and I stepped backwards from it, keeping face to the elf who could kill me at any minute. Great, just what I need, the people I have been asked to help killing me. I really need to reconsider what Gandalf had requested me to do.  
  
  
  
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alright, so what do you think… I have more chapters, all done, but I desperately need reviews!!! And the romance will come eventually so give me some time… 


	2. II Yomenie i lorwen

Wow! FIVE whole reviews! [yeah, sure, you sound like it's nothing, but for me… it's a new world record!!!] maybe this chapter will get five more.., or maybe 10, and then I'll post another chapter! And we all like that!  
  
And now… the moment you've all been waiting for… THE… SUMO MARATHON! THAT'S RIGHT! NOTHING BUT FAT-ASS MEN TRYING TO SHOVE EACH OTHER OUT OF A STUPID CIRCLE!!! [no! we wanna read Lord of the Rings!] well fine then, we'll post another chapter of LOTR for you wretched little snot-nosed brats!(damn no-paying job, I don't know why I stand this frickin place anyway…)  
  
Sailor Moon S(tupid), anyone? Okay. I'll shut up. And I didn't mean the part about the "wretched little snot-nosed brats", I was just kidding! I mean, come on… if I REALLY wanted to insult you, I could have come up with much better than that… ^_^  
  
READ AWAY! I PROMISE I'LL SHUT UP NOW!!!  
  
  
  
Chapter II: Yomenië I Lórwen  
  
[meeting the dream-maiden]  
  
Legolas kept his arrow trained on the cloaked stranger, wary of what else could happen in this hour. He stole a glance off the person to behind them, seeing Aragorn, Boromir and Gimli approach from behind, weapons drawn and ready. The hobbits approached as well, though they stood farther back, wary as well of the foreigner.  
  
« Manlyë nar ar man roitalyë sínomë? » [Who are you, and what business have you here?]  
  
I asked, keeping my voice low and unkind. It left me unnerved that I had not heard anything from this stranger since I had overheard him speak to himself.  
  
I looked him over. He did seem rather short, and left me to wonder whether this person could have been a dwarf, perhaps one that escaped the mines. Yet that would not explain how he knew Quenya, the tongue of the High Elves. I could not tell whether he had a weapon concealed underneath his long, thick cloak and hood.  
  
He slowly pushed the sides of his cloak aside, moving in a way that he was sure I could always see where his hands were.  
  
« Uva korima nat elyë nyéna. » [Do not do something you may regret. ] Aragorn warned, and Legolas noticed the person flinch as he turned slightly and saw that he was surrounded. He nodded slightly and continued, more careful not to alarm anyone with sudden actions.  
  
He pulled off a loose belt that hung around his hips, and threw before me a leather band that held several daggers. He put his hands, empty, up in the air as a sign of peace, and I heard him take a shaky breath before he spoke.  
  
« Tulin lá úmëa, mára heruion. » [I mean you no harm, good Sirs.] he said cautiously, raising his hands again peacefully till they were about his shoulders.  
  
"What business do you have here?" Boromir finally asked, growing somewhat annoyed at the conversation only being understood by two of the fellowship.  
  
"My business is my own; and yet… I suppose it should be yours as well, for it concerns you and the Fellowship of the Ring, convened by Elrond HalfElven and set out from Imladris." He said quietly, just loud enough for those closest to hear. Legolas was further perplexed by the use of Common Speech. Obviously, this was no ordinary wanderer, but friend of foe still was in debate. Wondering how much this person knew of the Fellowship, Legolas tightened the grip on his bow and string, an arrow still nocked and ready to fly.  
  
"How do you know of our plight? Choose your words carefully," Aragorn asked, suspicion drawn faintly on his face. He looked to Legolas and nodded, and he crept slowly towards the stranger, intending on removing the hood, as this stranger surely was not going to do any time in the future. He hesitated once in a while, wondering if indeed this person was an elf, for surely they would hear him sneak up from behind. The stranger did not, and with a quick motion, Aragorn tugged on the loose hood, pulling it away from the face of the girl who now stood before them.  
  
Silver hair flashed in the sunlight as the girl spun around to face her silent attacker. Violet eyes flashed in alarm and anxiety as she looked over the group who stared at her, weapons still in hand. The violet orbs lost their apprehension for a moment and sparkled in recognition as her eyes drew upon the face of Aragorn, and only Legolas heard the small gasp from the girl.  
  
"But-" Pippin started, shock read easily on his face as well as all the others, who surely thought this person to be a man, "You're a… a girl!"  
  
« Ingólemo, man-ië…» [What a scholar…] she uttered, sighing. Aragorn studied her intently, then re-sheathed his sword. He laughed lightly as she continued to comment in under-toned Quenya on his observation skills (or, rather, lack thereof.)  
  
"Legolas, you may lower your bow, as we have found a friend." He said, and waited till Legolas replaced his arrow in his quiver before turning back to the girl, still unnamed. Gimli lowered his axe and Boromir replaced his sword as well, and Aragorn saw her shoulders relax, if only by a bit.  
  
"So… Lórëala. What has you wandering these parts of the world?" Aragorn asked as he circled around her. Much less than a second later, Aragorn found himself lying on the ground on his back, Lórëala having swept his feet out from under him.  
  
"No matter how many times I have told you, have you still not learned not to call me that, Elessar? You have 20 names yourself, yet cannot seem to remember one of another?" She said, leaning over him with a small grin over her face, which, Aragorn noticed, did not reach her eyes as it usually did. Something was wrong, and Aragorn vowed to learn later. He grinned as she helped him up, offering her hand, which he accepted. "You're getting slow in your age, old man."  
  
"And you haven't aged since last we met. So what brings you to us?"  
  
"I was sent here to accompany you to LothLórien. I had expected that you would have passed by the Gate or over Caradhras, but I received word from Mithrandir that you were passing through the depths of Moria.  
  
"I am much relieved that you are here, For I greatly feared you trapped or lost during the time that you had spent in the mines. That said, these hills will be perilous and scouted by Orcs come nightfall, and it is too far a journey to make it to the Golden Wood before then. I know of a small camp that will be safe from the enemy for tonight, should you wish to rest. You all seem weary and heavy of heart, and, if my opinion means anything, I think it best to rest before travelling again." She ended quietly, unsure if her thoughts were of value to this group of (seemingly) hostile travellers, with the exception of Aragorn.  
  
"Do you trust this… this girl, Aragorn?" The dwarf finally spoke up, glaring at Lórëala as if she was a witch come to kill them all. She looked to be, almost, an elf, and he was still wary of them, with the exception of Master Legolas.  
  
"In dark times as these, Gimli, I trust her with my life." A solemn look passed over him, but it was soon covered with an unreadable expression.  
  
"Sad times are these where you would trust me of all people, Elessar. You must truly be doomed!" Lórëala said, grinning slightly. Aragorn sighed, and ruffled her hair.  
  
"Indeed, we all are doomed." He said, sarcasm evident as he looked at her. "I should make it a solemn oath that I shall not perish before you do." Aragorn laughed as he taunted the young girl, who in all senses was older than all their ages combined, doubled and tripled.  
  
Finally he saw a bright smile graced her face, and Aragorn could see the difference it made. To her it lifted millennia of harsh responsibilities and lost sleep from her face, and brightened everything about her. To others it made her seem much more friendly and welcoming, putting their worries and grief aside as they wanted to know more of her. Aragorn noticed a faint smile of approval upon the face of Gimli, but placed that thought under the heading of 'ask later'.  
  
She walked over back to where she threw her belt and daggers, and retrieved them, and half the group that was watching noticed her avoid Legolas, his person as well as his gaze.  
  
"Shall we be off, or will a battle of wits ensue and delay us further?" She asked, mock bowing as she gestured towards the path that leads to the forest.  
  
"Yes, I'm afraid we cannot delay much longer."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Frodo followed the Company as they made their way through the green forest. After rather brief introductions were made (where Aragorn still insisted on naming her Lórëala, and word was not spoken of her real name), they had taken a faint path, one barely visible yet seemed to wind every once in a while. The path was light, and the company kept a lighter speed as they made through the wood. Every so often they would stop and walk in a western direction (so Frodo guessed), and Lórëala would lead them to a new path, and they travelled on in the same direction as before. The group was solemn again as they walked on, and as best as Frodo tried against it, tears stung his face as memories of Gandalf surfaced, sinking in that he would be lost of his counsel and friendship for ever more. The Ring that hung round his neck weighed down heavily, with more weight than Frodo had thought it was capable of.  
  
When they had first met Lórëala, the Ring had burned with heat, and seemed drawn to her, burning so angrily that Frodo had to hold it in his palm to stop it being pulled off the chain. She had seemed nice enough, and it set his mind at ease that Aragorn seemed to know her well. Frodo vaguely remembered not seeing him so happy, - or laughing even -since they had set out from Rivendell.  
  
But even so, he could not ward off the warning that he received from the ring.  
  
He walked near the front of the company, with Aragorn and Lórëala leading the way silently. He wanted to know more about her, foremost on his mind her name, since she had said that Aragorn refused to call her by whatever real name she may have had, and she continued to berate him for the use of her given nickname. Frodo sighed heavily. Knowing these dark times, he would never know, as things tended to be kept hidden.  
  
Another thought that plagued the minds of the company, save Aragorn who knew the truth yet would never utter it, and perhaps Gimli who seemed to fear her not, was that they knew not what she was, Elf or Man. She seemed to be both, and yet not; there was a strange sort of air 'round her that could not be identified. She wore clothes that could have been of a ranger, were she one. She wore a pair of straight black pants, neither tight nor loose, and a long black shirt. Over it, she wore a short-sleeved tunic of a very dark green. A black vest and dark cloak rested over her shoulders, the cloak almost seeming too large for her. It reached the floor of the forest, just grazing it occasionally, and the hood, when raised, covered her whole head in shadows, making her seem much more frightening than when you knew her and could see her face.  
  
"How far do you deem this camp of yours to be?" Aragorn asked, finally venturing to break the deep silence that surrounded the group.  
  
"Not much farther. I came across an abandoned home in these woods, and have charmed it to be invisible to all save those I choose. Another little trick I learned from Gandalf, among other people..." she trailed off, a shadow covering her eyes. Aragorn thought for a moment he had seen a drop of tear fall from the inside of her hood, but he left it to a trick of the light.  
  
" How many are left?" he said in a low voice, leaning in to avoid more people than necessary from hearing. Lórëala stopped suddenly, but continued on within one step of the pace set by the fellowship. She lowered her head, and was quiet for a moment.  
  
« Ufárëa. » [Not enough.] she muttered, quickening her pace slightly. Aragorn placed his hand on her arm, and she turned back to him for a moment. He repeated his question, and hidden emotions flashed in her eyes. « Er atta, inyë mi. »  
  
She pulled her arm from his hand and continued on. Frodo watched this exchange with worry and curiosity, wishing he knew more Elvish to understand what was said and thinking about the look of deep concern that was apparent on Aragorn's face when he looked at her. He turned and slowed his pace till he fell back with Legolas, who was keeping up the rear.  
  
"Legolas, I'm sure you heard them speak, what did they say?" he asked. Legolas looked at him for a moment, unsure of how he should respond.  
  
"I am not sure what was said is to be repeated; but since I understood naught of the topic, I may as well tell you the words. He asked her how many were left, but as to what they refer to remains to be told. She replied, 'Not enough. Only two, myself included.' Do you know what they speak of?"  
  
"Nay, I don't have an idea. Perhaps her people, maybe? A town or village? I wonder what she is, though." Frodo pondered, more to himself than to Legolas. "She seems to be like an elf, but she doesn't look like one, except for the ears. And she's so short, barely taller than Master Gimli."  
  
"I don't really think of her to be an elf, yet she is naught of Men either. She seems in the middle, yet she seems leagues away at the same time."  
  
"Even though Aragorn trusts her, I am still wary. She knows about the Ring, surely, but it is as if it holds some strange power over her, and I can feel it calling to her." Frodo sighed. "It is most puzzling…"  
  
"The Ring calls to her… that is a strange tale, indeed. Ela! If only Gandalf were here to ask for advice. She has this aura about her, I do not know how to describe it, not really a thing seen, but felt. I do not know the best course, but you should keep the Ring far from her, and do not stray alone around her, either. Keep a companion near when around her, until she can prove to all that she is trustworthy."  
  
"I was thinking thoughts similar. She is strange." Frodo said, staring ahead again. How did Aragorn meet her, and was she a close friend of Gandalf? Questions once again plagued Frodo's mind, and he now wished fervently again that Gandalf was here for guidance.  
  
"So, Miss, since you said that Aragorn did not call you by you correct name," Merry spoke up, walking to the side of Lórëala.  
  
"We were wondering, pray tell, what you real name is?" Pippin asked, claiming her from the other side, Sam catching up as well to hear the answer.  
  
"Ilúvatar, help me, I've been overcome by Hobbits." She laughed, a sound that gave slight hope to the company, easing the dark cloud that hung overhead. "My name, you ask? How wonderful that others do care about what my name really is." She said, shooting a glare towards Aragorn, who only smiled innocently as he turned back around and kept walking.  
  
"My real name is Haíthwen, or more properly Haíthiminë, but I would be much obliged for you to simply call me Aíca, if not continue calling me Lórëala."  
  
"Well I like the sounds of Haíthiminë," Merry said, stumbling over the pronunciation slightly, "but as it is quite a mouthful, and I fear saying it wrong and offending you, I think I shall stick with Aíca. 'Tis a very pretty name." Merry said, which Lórëala had to laugh at, smiling warmly as she looked down at the hobbit.  
  
"Why, thank you, Master Brandybuck, but I am quite sure you could offend me not. In fact, I am quite relieved that you are not as some others of your company." She said, leaning down to be closer to him. "Telling the truth, I believe some of these gentlemen to be… how to put this… sticks in the mud." She whispered, loud enough for the surrounding hobbits to hear. Pippin and Merry broke out in laughter, and Sam smiled broadly, restraining a laugh in his throat.  
  
"Too true!" Pippin agreed. "I fear they forget how to laugh, on a journey such as this! It is very good to know that someone is always ready for a joke or laugh!"  
  
"Much agreed with, Master Took. I mean," she paused, looking and pointing to where Aragorn walked in front of them, "Should we never laugh, we may begin to look like poor ol' Lord Elessar over there. All sullen and sad." She said, hiding a giggle as Aragorn over heard and turned back to them once again. "Does nothing but make him look dreadfully older that he really is!" she spoke, loud enough for him to fully hear. The hobbits almost expected him to be angry, but he only nodded and smiled again at Haíthwen, who laughed quietly again.  
  
"Tis very welcoming to see the Lady cheerful at the expense of my dignity." He said, pretending to be hurt but smiling again as she ran back up to him and lead them further on. In truth, it had taken him a moment to understand to what she was talking of. His mind was set at ease as he took in that she was trying to discourage the group of young hobbits from thinking of sorrow.  
  
The Fellowship entered a small clearing, if one could call it that, for the trees were only further apart. A strange feeling crept over them, as if they shouldn't be there, an innermost voice telling them to flee. Haíthwen walked confidently through the woods further, seeming to hear nothing, her followers slowly and warily proceeding.  
  
"What is this devilry? Something is here that remains unseen, and it makes me uneasy." Legolas asked, his hand straying to his bow, then recoiling, as if debating whether this feeling was an enemy or not.  
  
"You are right in saying something is hidden, Master Elf, but Fear not! 'Tis no enemy that will come near. Do you not see it?" Haíthwen said, pointing ahead of them.  
  
The fellowship followed her hand, and, as if it had always stood there, a small cottage appeared, ivy covering its sides.  
  
"Where did that come from?" Gimli asked, awe-struck as he stared at the cottage, rubbing his eyes as if they, too, deceived him.  
  
"T'was hidden till a moment ago. Hidden that so unfriendly eyes will not discover it. I've been staying here, waiting till you exited the mines." She said, stopping just outside the door. She searched her pockets for something, and withdrew a small iron key, placing it in the hole and turning the lock. She turned back to the Fellowship, who still stood staring at the cottage, wary of its presence.  
  
"Well, are you going to stand there gawking, or shall you enter?" she laughed lightly, and gestured inside. The group entered the cabin, still wary. Inside was a small kitchen, with a cupboard beside a fireplace. Through an adjoining door there was a small bedroom, with two beds, and through a smaller one there was a bath.  
  
"Miss Aíca, I'd hate to complain, but I must admit, it is a tad small…" Pippin said openly, earning an elbow from both Merry and Frodo, who stood on either side of him. She simply laughed.  
  
"Yes, I do know that it is small, at least the part that is visible to the eye. But there's more that you have yet to see." She walked over to the left side of the room, which was bare except for a rug on the floor. She pulled the rug away, and it revealed a trap door in the wooden floor. She pulled it open, and a stone stair led underneath the cottage.  
  
"There are quite a few extra beds down here, and a fireplace, too. I was lucky I found this door, else I would have never know what was hidden underneath!"  
  
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1 so, come on… 10 reviews ain't THAT much!!! PWEASE?????? 


	3. III Quetla Lumbule

Estel Hiruvalyë  
  
(thou shalt find hope)  
  
Disclaimer: Sue me.  
  
1  
  
2  
  
3  
  
4 Chapter III: Quetlá Lumbule  
  
5 [speak not of shadow]  
  
  
  
Legolas entered the main room of the cottage again, feeling much refreshed and renewed, and sat down on one of the stools that surrounded the mid- size wooden table. Aragorn sat there already, smoking his pipe and looking almost contented if not for the shady look in his eyes that usually meant he was deep in thought. Legolas picked up an apple and a piece of bread from the plate of food that was left on the table for the fellowship. Aragorn and himself were given the ground level room, for they would be taking the watches for the night, along with Haíthwen. The rest of the fellowship would be sleeping in the underground, and they had already retired for the night.  
  
Haíthwen had given each member a bed to rest in, as well as a warm bath, to which each member was eternally grateful. She had politely excused herself from the cottage while they each took a turn to bathe, and had returned much later in the passing day. None save Legolas noticed the slight stumble she held while walking, or the small patch of red on her sleeve; details that were almost unperceivable to all save the keen eyes of an elf. Legolas had made a small note to inquire as to what had happened, but had put it off, perhaps until later when he held watch alone with her. The thought of being alone with her almost unnerved him, almost, as he still did not trust her completely. Of course, he would still act civil, yet there was still that hidden sense of doubt that surrounded her, like she wasn't all, or maybe more, than what she showed to be.  
  
Legolas heard very light footsteps climb the stone stair, and turned slightly to see Haíthwen enter the room, carrying a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Legolas noticed the slight stumble was still present, and saw that she was trying to hide it. She sat down heavily on one stool and leaned her head against the table in exhaustion.  
  
"The hobbits a little much to handle?" Aragorn asked with another grin as he continued puffing away. She looked up and stared at him with a look that could have said 'No, you think?' She groaned and laid her head back on the table for a minute before picking herself back up and went to gather a couple jars and herbs.  
  
"Not as much as I thought, actually. They remind me of children, though. So much like fir-Alassë… meh. Wonderful people. Wish I had visited them more. Always happy, and good lord can they eat a lot!" She stopped, catching herself rambling and biting her tongue.  
  
Aragorn watched her with interest, barely blinking as he seemed to try to catch every detail of her movement, every action and every item having some significance. Legolas watched this exchange with interest, wondering what she was doing and what Aragorn found so interesting.  
  
Legolas watched her again as she prepared a tea over the small fireplace, boiling water and adding various herbs and other liquids to the kettle. Here and again Legolas could see an air of dignity and elegance in her actions, an aura that seemed to far surpass that of any living being. Before he could catch a mere glance of her graceful actions, they were gone and replaced by the faltering step and trembling arms of the common girl he met earlier that day. Aragorn gazed at her, but whether he saw this change in her as well was hidden in his unchanging facial expressions.  
  
"Will I have to wait till my deathbed before I learn of your liquors?" Aragorn asked, sighing as he seemed to forego the observations and relit his pipe. Haíthwen turned with the prepared tea and ran to fetch some cups to hold it.  
  
"No." she said simply as she poured three cups of the amber liquid, and a warm, spiced aroma wafted around the small room. Its sweet, intoxicating smell was almost overwhelming, and Legolas felt sleepy as the fragrance reached him. "But, granted, you'll have to wait. I would prefer to keep some secrets to myself a little longer before throwing them to the wind."  
  
She offered him a cup of the cider with a small bow, which Aragorn took with a nod. She offered a cup as well to Legolas, and he smiled despite himself at the small, yet… 'what was the word? Gracious'… act of courtesy. Legolas thought to himself a moment. She seemed… regal, of sorts.  
  
"My Lady, you have no fear in keeping secrets! Mithrandir himself barely has more that you do, and even he tells more of them that you do." Aragorn laughed warmly as he took a mouthful of the beverage.  
  
Legolas took a sip also, and immediately felt the warmth of the sweet beverage renew him. He relaxed, and yet at the same time, many details came into sharper focus, his senses heightened despite his weary state.  
  
"What is this? It tastes wonderful," He asked, as he took another sip.  
  
"I would welcome death even now for the ingredients, had I not previously entrusted my life to our quest." Aragorn sighed as he set the cup on the table and leaned on the table, resting his head in his hand.  
  
"So would many people, Elessar, yet wouldn't that defeat the intent of the drink?" She said, a slight smile showing again on her face. She turned to Legolas. "It was long ago that it had a name, yet even longer that I should remember it." She said, a small frown on her face.  
  
"I think it was called… Kuivëamíru…but perhaps my memory escapes me. I learned it ages ago, from the last of my people. I usually call it Narýuvor. It has a few healing qualities: it speeds healing, prevents infection and poisoning, and relaxes. I've been told it improves the senses, but I am still unsure if it really occurs."  
  
"Such modesty from the Lady!" Aragorn cried mockingly. "You give yourself no credit where praise is due!"  
  
"Tis not modesty, Aragorn, but fear of becoming someone who deserves praise and honour." She whispered sadly, staring at her hands which now lay folded in her lap.  
  
Legolas was about to dispute, though wary he still was of her, but held himself silent as her head snapped behind him, a look of angst and unease flaring in her eyes as she watched someone approach from the stair.  
  
"Welcome, Frodo. Unable to find rest?" Legolas asked as Frodo climbed up the stool and rested his head in his hands. He nodded and sighed.  
  
"Evil dreams plagued the sleep I did have, and I fear going to sleep again for what other nightmares may come." He said, fatigue in his voice. Legolas could see the dark circles under his eyes, and the look of hopelessness in them. He turned back to Lórëala, who looked rather pale and withdrawn. She continued to stare at her hands, as if afraid to chance her eyes meeting Frodo's. She didn't look at him as she rose, but she poured another cup of the still-steaming Narýuvor and walked slowly over to him, handing it to him cautiously.  
  
"This should put your mind at rest, Sir. I doubt dreams will haunt your rest if you have some." She said quietly, still avoiding his gaze. Frodo, in his sullen state, did not notice her uneasiness, but Legolas did, as well as Aragorn, whose brow creased as he looked at her. She flinched slightly as Frodo accepted the cup, and she returned to her seat, after offering more to both Legolas and Aragorn, who politely declined.  
  
"It is good, thank you. It does ease my mind." He said, his eyes a little brighter and his face a little less fatigued. "Aragorn, where are we headed now?" Frodo asked.  
  
"We should head towards Lórien, as it seems the path that Gandalf would have most likely taken himself. We can rest there without fear before continuing on. You are our guide, are you not?" he asked, turning to the quiet girl who now sat at the end of the table.  
  
"I was originally sent here to wait for Gandalf, because I could not join the council in Rivendell, and I couldn't have joined you till you passed the Redhorn Gate. It was just as well that I wasn't there, as I could have not made it through the mines of Moria." She said quietly.  
  
"You say you could not have gone through Moria? Why, even Legolas, an elf who dreads being underground, made it through. It was horrible, but I'd be willing to bet that even you could have made it through, to say the least." Frodo said, frowning as he recalled the grim passage through Moria, but pressed on.  
  
"It is not as simple as passing through a dark tunnel. I have been through Moria of previous, and I could not begin to think of daring the journey again." Frodo went to say something, but was stopped by Aragorn who shot him a reproachful glance.  
  
"Continuing on," she spoke finally, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had grown between the table, "since Gandalf cannot be here, I shall bring you to the borders of Lórien, where you will meet a party of the Guard. They will direct you to see the Lady, and perhaps I shall meet you on the other side of the Golden Wood. I dread the day I shall re-enter the Woods of Altáriel."  
  
"How could you dread the day? The Golden Wood is a magnificent forest, surely you jest?" Legolas asked, incredulous. Here was a girl who had not only seen the wonderful Wood, but fears the day she should return? Doubt and distrust once again filled his mind, for surely one who fears the Wood must have angered Galadriel, Lady of the Wood. And to anger one as her, they must have done some terrible deed, indeed.  
  
"I shall not enter." She said resolutely, but fearful her tone was, her voice wavering as she stood from the table and walked to the cupboard, pulling some candles from a drawer and lighting them.  
  
Frodo stood up and walked back towards the staircase, but paused a moment and turned back to where Haíthwen held a candle and was lighting another.  
  
"Thank you for your hospitality and generosity. I'm sure we would be very grateful no matter how far you lead us." He said, smiling gently as a child would. She turned, looking at him a moment before smiling herself.  
  
"Your welcome." She said, handing him a candle. "Let us go. I'll sit with you and make sure you dream easy till the morrow." She said, as she let him lead down the steps, leaving the two men to themselves.  
  
"Take care what is said around her." Aragorn said quietly as he leaned over to Legolas.  
  
"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked.  
  
"It is difficult for her to speak of her past. Gandalf has told me bits of her history, and in no way has she had it easy."  
  
"And we have?" Legolas hissed out, becoming angered, but he pushed the emotion away and calmed himself. Aragorn only shook his head.  
  
"She has a mighty burden to defend, a burden that grew much heavier when the One Ring failed to be destroyed.  
  
"She has become much more solemn since I met her at last, and this chance does not bode well for the world. In a world where hope is a precious commodity, should she lose hers, we will have lost a fair and vast treasure indeed. In fear of the future, one tends to forget one's past. We should aid her, for in helping her, we are gaining a great ally. If she fulfills her destiny, we may have a chance at fulfilling ours."  
  
"Is she some kind of witch? I still do not understand why she fears entering LothLórien, never mind this new information you tell of." Legolas said as he leaned on the table.  
  
"Haíthwen fears not the Golden Wood, but the people in it. Just like she failed to come to the council; she avoided it because she fears the people there. They betrayed her kind during the time of the Great Alliance, and they were forsaken. Sauron and his Ring sought them out, hoping to use them in his search for power. When He found they could not be turned, he had them eradicated. Now hardly any remain, perhaps one or two. It is sad, for the one person she seeks forgiveness from is the person she most fears seeing." He paused, and rubbed his forehead. "That is all I dare say, for it is her story and should not be told by myself, for I understand very little of it. But I will tell you this. She is naught witch, hobbit, dwarf, elf or human."  
  
Legolas was about to comment again, when he heard her footsteps again on the stone. He turned, and stared long and hard at her. He knew, somewhere in the far recesses of his mind, of a fairy-tale heard long ago while he was a child that sounded very similar to Aragorn's story. He looked at her, at her small stature that looked like an elf, yet was almost tiny compared to the average height of most elves. The way she sometimes held grace, like she was floating, and the bright light in her eyes that shimmered with glitter… but it was only a fairy-tale…  
  
He gasped as he finally realized what he saw in front of him.  
  
"You're… you're a –" Legolas cried…  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
ha ha ha he he he… oh boy. Nobody seems to like to review! [surprise, surprise!] well, as an added incentive, I've completed up to chapter SEVEN! So if you review, I'll post more chapters sooner!  
  
BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE! If you send me a review along with the name of a story you want reviewed, then I'll review it! Promise! 


	4. IV Hecile Lindame

He he he, here is the next chapter… I didn't have trouble at all writing it, because I have this grand master plan in my mind of what has happened/ what is happening/ what will happen, but I just don't really feel satisfied with the way I'm writing it.  
  
A little info on Haíthwen: she isn't a mary sue, at least I'm not trying to make her one. She is a loyal friend, and trusts the fellowship because Aragorn trusts them, and they are good friends (it's not an Aragorn romance, they are just close friends! He's all Arwens!), but still she does not trust people easily. She feels deeply for people, though, and is very motherly, for she feels it is her duty to care for others; a trait among the faëries. She hates killing. She fears what other people think of her, so she hides what she really is. She doubts herself, even if she doesn't show it, and cannot continue for long without guidance, praise or direction from others. Okay… that's all I can think of saying without giving away anything else… but if you have any suggestions, comments, flames or other, tell me, as I do want to hear!  
  
Okay… onwards!  
  
  
  
  
  
1 Chapter IV: Hecilë lindámë  
  
[forsaken song-wing]  
  
Previously:  
  
He turned, and stared long and hard at Haíthwen. He knew, somewhere in the far recesses of his mind, of a fairy-tale heard long ago while he was a child that sounded very similar to Aragorn's story. He looked at her, at her small stature that looked like an elf, yet was almost tiny compared to the average height of most elves. The way she sometimes held grace, like she was floating, and the bright light in her eyes that shimmered with glitter…  
  
"You're… you're a –" Legolas cried…  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I walked up the stairs after ensuring Frodo was asleep and well. It haunted me somewhat that I could help him, of all people, with their nightmares, yet I could do nothing for my own. I pushed that thought aside as I remembered that I was only here to help others, screw myself.  
  
I stopped walking as I saw Legolas stare at me hard. I trembled as he held his gaze on me for so long, but it paled to the fear and anxiety I felt as his face shifted to one in utter shock.  
  
"Oh… shit." I mumbled as he must have recognized fully what he saw before him.  
  
"You're… you're a –" Legolas cried…  
  
I took a step away from him, wondering what may happen. I had yet to see how an elf would react if they ever found out what I truly was, but I had never needed to learn as Mithrandir's spell had never failed me! 'But think, Aíca, he's fallen into darkness now. The spell wouldn't work if he had…'  
  
"You… are a faërie." Legolas said, wonder and awe present in his voice. Whatever I had expected, I was sure this was not it. I had expected beheading, bloodshed, screaming, little kids running for their lives, life in dungeons… okay, so I'm melodramatic. I had not expected him to be looking at me in awe, or wonder, or anything that did not result in death. Somewhere in my subconscious I heard a voice screaming, 'He's an elf! They betrayed your family! Friends! People!' but I could not grasp that opinion. I was still afraid, but I had expected… much worse. Part of me was worried, just because this one elf is amazed, doesn't mean your life is no longer in danger, but the other was relieved, tremendously happy, that he had taken this so lightly. Or as lightly as one can take it. His uncomfortable gaze and the oppressive silence between us was growing unbearable, and I felt tears well up in my eyes for a reason I did not know.  
  
"But I would… should… have known earlier. Elves were always able to tell where faëries were. And you don't look the part if one does not know how to look…" Legolas had a confused look on his face, one that made him look like a small child and really cute, but I thought back to the arrow that he had aimed through my head to wipe my mind of that picture.  
  
"I have been hiding for thousands and hundreds of years. I would not have let one single elf know of what I was could I have prevented it."  
  
"But…" he started, but I interrupted him. Since when are people so easy to predict?  
  
"Yes, I have wings. No, you can not see them. And no, we are not 5 inches tall… All of the time." I sighed and realized that I was still edging away from him. I sighed and walked over to the table, walking around him and getting as close as I dared without creeping against the walls to stay far away from his person. I sad down at the table and sighed, rubbing my arm… I had yet to tell anyone where I had gone earlier in the day, or what had happened, but I realized it had little real value here and now. I had yet to properly care for it, but the athelas leaves I always carried in my pouch had kept the wound clean, to say the least. All I could do till later is hope the wound starts to close, and is not too much a discomfort.  
  
"And for you… you are the one that told him!" I said harshly to Aragorn, who was eating an apple. He looked at me innocently for a moment, like a child that does not realize they have done anything wrong, until my face began to crack into a small smile, which I tried to hide by burying my head in my arms once again.  
  
"I told him some basic details, Lórëala, but he figured it out in his own time." He finally said, seriously, as he cut up another apple and offered it around.  
  
"Call me my proper name, Aragorn." I mumbled, my voice colder that I wished it to sound, as I crossed my arms on the table and set my head in them.  
  
"Why are you afraid to travel to LothLórien?" Legolas asked as he took a piece from Aragorn. I groaned inwardly, knowing this question will have resurfaced by the time we could reach the wood. I had hoped for a little more time though, to think of a lie to sway him away from the whole topic, but knowing elves, he would have seen through it.  
  
"Ages ago, the Elves and the Rámainenórë were joined together, where an elf had a faërie as a guardian of sorts. The faërie would follow them until they left across the sea or died, and the faërie would then find another mate, if they so wished. During the time of the Great Alliance, the elves expected the faëries to join the war against Sauron, but we wouldn't, as we do not go to war. One of our principles. Our race was innocent and naive. We were a young race, and I believe we were simply afraid of what we may have to do, could not cope with the idea of going to war. We don't take away life, as it is very precious to us. So most of the elves became furious that we would not help, so we were cast away. We were without hope, and those who left the elves returned to our last safe-haven, Rossëmár. Rumour is that one elf aligned himself with the Dark Lord, and before he was turned into an Orc, he told of where we were hiding. Sauron came to us, demanding that we align ourselves with him. We wouldn't do that, just as we had said we would not join the war, and he…" I paused, my voice finally disappearing as it had threatened to while I spoke. I took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in my throat. "He killed all that were there.  
  
"A couple were absent from the disaster, some of the faëries that had refused to participate in the war, let lend their services elsewhere, like healing and planning refuge and shelter for others that were affected. A total of 13 were spared from death, but they, too, eventually left as the elves grew resentful of us. And over the years, especially the last 10 winter-cycles, the Nazgûl have been dividing us, hunting us down, one by one, and we have diminished, our magi's being lost."  
  
"Magi, now here is something you have yet to tell of." Aragorn said as he stretched his arms.  
  
"I shall not go into it in detail, for it would take many hours to explain, and you are weary. There are 5 types of Magi among the Rámainenórë: the Eärrámë, the Vilya, the Nárolië, the Olvaralië, and the Hisiëfëa. Each one tends to lean towards a certain type of magic, water, air, fire, earth, and life. It's our life force, in a way. Since there are so few of us left, each person left as the last of their elements has almost all of that type of magic available. If none are left, then the magi is divided between the rest of the faëries, until another comes along with that type to reclaim it, or only one is left with all five types."  
  
"So right now, only two faëries are left, divided between 5 types of magic. Which do you possess?" Legolas asked, barely able to hide his interest. I wondered how he knew there were only two left, but I left it that Aragorn had let it slip. I'll add it to the 'list of things to berate Aragorn with'.  
  
"Only Cemendur and I remain, he possesses all of Earth, I possess all of Life, and among the two of us, we have almost half of all Air, Water, and Fire each. I believe that's it… it's not exactly a precise science."  
  
"Incredible." Legolas said, awe-struck. I left him at that, for he seemed too amazed at it all to say anything else.  
  
"I hardly think of it as wonderful. Indeed…" I scoffed, picking up an apple and rolling it between my hands. How could anyone think this power is great? Such burden I can hardly begin to describe, yet it is Sauron's lust for power that is slowly killing us off.  
  
"But that still leaves one question unanswered: What so frightens you in LothLórien?" Aragorn inquired.  
  
"Each faërie has an elf mate. Before the Great War, I was Galadriel's faërie. I fear returning, for I know, should I enter her realm and be caught, I shall be brought before her, and I fear what she may say, for we did not leave in the best of circumstances. But enough if this talk," I stopped, standing and stretching my stiff back and knee, "It is well into the night, and I'm sure whichever one of you which has taken 2nd watch shall want to rest before-hand."  
  
Legolas stood and bid us a pleasant watch before retiring to rest, but clearly thought the discussion not to be over, as he looked like he had many questions.  
  
"Why should you feel so wronged in telling others your story? I know there were many things you avoided telling him, as well as me. Why?" Aragorn asked, forehead creased in worry or something as he looked at me again. I groaned in frustration. I barely knew my story, and the one I do know is much different from that that the rest of the world knew. I wished sometimes that my story was just a fairy tale (no pun intended), for indeed, they all ended with 'happily ever after'. Whereas mine just goes from bad to worse to horrendous to 'kill-me-now-get-it-over-with'. Why should I feel 'wronged'? Because I don't want pity. Because I don't like to be the centre of attention. Because I just want to be forgotten. Because I miss her. Both of them.  
  
"Please, Estel… not now. I do not wish to speak anymore on the subject, please do not force me to." I pleaded, feeling strangely weary and tired, but I pushed it away. He looked at me strangely, as if debating whether to push the subject, but he finally nodded.  
  
"Why is Mithrandir not here?" I asked quietly, stopping as I turned back to Aragorn. I knew not why exactly I choose this moment to blurt out the question that plagued my mind, and I wished I had not spoken of it, but there was naught to be done about it now. I must have seemed a lost child to him at the moment, and truly I felt one, not knowing what to do, when to do it, or where to go for help. Aragorn was caught off guard at the question as well, it seemed, and clenched his hand before closing his eyes and rubbing his chin, choosing words carefully. "Give me one reason that stopped him, be it person, place, or thing, and I'll discontinue the conversation. But I wish… I need… to know." I pleaded, folding my hands repeatedly with uncomforting strain, for as soon as I said that, I felt as if I didn't want to know, just wanted to forget everything and keep on thinking with some hope that he was still alive. Whatever I heard, I was sure, at that moment, that my hope would be burned away.  
  
"A Balrog was in the mines." Aragorn finally said, shaking his head and turning away from my face, where I could feel unshed tears threatening to fall. I let out a held breath, and turned away for a moment, but continued with lighting another candle, taking comfort in the warmth that it gave, even if only small and temporary.  
  
I suddenly felt very weak, as all the weariness that I had been feeling previously caught up with me tenfold. I slowly leaned against the wall, taking strength from its cool hardness. I clenched my arm again, and cursed myself as Aragorn saw me do this.  
  
Aragorn stood and walked around the table, over to his pack, where he removed a small package.  
  
"Now, let me have a look at that arm of yours." Aragorn said, smiling as he advanced towards me. I looked at him, then at my arm and back again.  
  
I frowned as I backed away from him. He only smiled broader as he continued cornering me. "Shit."  
  
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2 please review! I do read your stories! And review then, too! 


	5. V Rucima Laurenande

Does anyone want to be a Beta-reader for me? I think I really need one, because I'll post something, then change the chapter and re-post it. note to you, readers: I've changed a couple things in the past chapters, if things get confusing, read them again, because I am one whacked up writer, and things. well, you'll see. but anyways, if anyone wants to help me with the editing process and writing processes and keeping me on track and stuff, send me an e-mail or just tell me in a review, because I would SOOOO APPRECIATE IT!!!!!  
  
  
  
  
  
Anyways, on with da story!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter V: Rúcima Laurenandë  
  
[terrible Golden-valley]  
  
Aragorn thought to himself as they trod through the light forest heading towards LothLórien. To say the least he hoped they were headed there, as Haíthwen had led them on a path said to be the fastest and safest route to the Wood. He remembered that he should have no doubts of her loyalty, but thoughts of her fear of the place still floated through his mind.  
  
She had seemed so different than when at last they met. Aragorn thought she seemed so much more defensive, more solemn and serious than the Haíthwen he knew who was always cheerful, and had a sense of humour to rival that of the hobbits.  
  
Well, he thought, at least she seems to get along with those in the Fellowship. She was walking alongside Gimli, who no longer held any reservations to her, and was happily discussing the Glittering Caves with her, who seemed happy just listening. Aragorn almost thought him to be rambling, but thought again. It would readily sound like rambling to others who do not share the love of the topic, like Gimli of mountains, or Legolas of the woods.  
  
Aragorn glanced back to see the elf keeping the rear of the group, his keen eyes taking in all the sights of the trees around him. Would only be a matter of time before he broke out into song, he thought, amused.  
  
The group kept walking that day, and stopped to rest in a small clearing beside a small brook. It was only another days walk to LothLórien, so said Haíthwen, and they had covered more ground that Aragorn had previously thought. He was hoping to lure her farther into the wood than she wanted to go, For he knew of the scouting parties that roamed the borders. If he could get her inside their paths, he was pretty sure she would be forced to enter the city, and most certainly see Galadriel.  
  
When he had first met Haíthwen, or Lórëala as he had nicknamed her, Gandalf had introduced them right away as what they properly were: Haíthiminë, crowned princess of the long lost race of Faëries; and Aragorn, son of Arathorn, of Isildur's line and heir to the throne of Gondor ('should he ever get the guts to claim it' Gandalf had said). Why exactly Gandalf had bluntly introduced them as what they were (or could be) was unclear, but Aragorn had never regretted that she knew, for she treated him exactly as he wished to be treated by others: like a human being, not as some superhuman being that was all righteous and virtuous, possible King or not. Aragorn admired her in many ways, for her kindness, friendship and honesty. Even now those qualities were still present, although hidden by such toil that Aragorn pitied her, even if he would not dare show it (he dared think of that would happen if he did: She would be mad. A mad Lórëala would be a baaaad thing...) . Gandalf had explained how she could fear elves, and how it was his fondest desire that she could restore the relationship with Galadriel, for she had not been the same since her departure. Galadriel had never spoken directly to Aragorn of it, but Gandalf knew of the grief the she felt in her actions towards the small sprite. 'Aragorn, should you ever have a chance to bring Haíthwen before the Lady of the Wood, by no means let it slip by you!' Gandalf had said, then made him swear by it that he would do whatever he could to fulfill his oath, whether or not it meant dragging her into the wood by her ears. Aragorn laughed inwardly at the mental picture this entailed: him dragging a very furious Fairy by her pointed ears through a forest, her cursing every step of the way.  
  
The company rested that night, Haíthwen keeping guard all through the night, as Aragorn had later learned, for she had 'forgotten' to wake another to replace her. He frowned upon this, for she had not slept since they had met in Dimril Dale, and despite the fact that she never looked tired, the weariness was apparent in her eyes, particularly when she thought no one was there to see.  
  
They continued on through the fields and plains, till they reached the very edge of the forest, where the trees began to turn a silver hue and the leaves were like liquid gold in the wind. Haíthwen visibly slowed as they passed the first few trees, but Aragorn slowed his pace to meet hers, nodding to Legolas with a quick glance as the elf lead them through the wood.  
  
"Lórëala, how exactly did Mithrandir send word to you?" He asked, and she looked at him, surprised at haven been awakened from her thoughts.  
  
"I. um, he sent me letters and messages through Gwaihir, the Wind Lord. Not much for conversation, but he is the best messenger by far in Middle- Earth." She said wistfully. She did not move to continue the conversation, and Aragorn searched quickly to find another topic to discuss. Luckily, Merry and Pippin saved him from his block of ideas.  
  
"Aíca, every time we've tried to bring this up, you've always shifted the topic to something else, and now we aren't going to give up till you tell us. Once and for all, are you an elf? Or Man? Or part hobbit, perhaps, since you're shorter than the others." Merry asked. She looked at them anxiously, then shifted her gaze away to the trees.  
  
"Aren't these trees beautiful? The leaves stay gold all winter, and don't fall off, did you know that?"  
  
"Oh no you don't!" Pippin cried as he jumped on Haíthwen's back, arms around her neck trying to wrestle her to the ground. Merry grabbed hold of her legs and held them together, causing the trio to fall to the ground, rolling down a small hill. Her cry of alarm alerted the rest of the Fellowship, and they all turned to look for hidden enemies. Aragorn and Gimli laughed as the two hobbits ganged up on her and began to tickle her, and, try as she might, she could not wrestle her arms from underneath their tight grasp. Even Frodo laughed, forgetting his sorrow for a moment.  
  
"Stop! Ple-please.let me. GO! Peace!" she cried, silver pearls of laughter ringing through the forest like a cheerful song.  
  
"Promise you'll tell, then we'll let you go!" Merry said.  
  
"Fine! FINE! « Avá. áva », I'll tell!" [Don't!] She cried, and Merry and Pippin jumped off her, offering their hands to pick her up. She glared at them and rolled over on her side, gasping for air. She slowly picked herself up, and the duo looked at her expectantly, waiting for her answer. "Will you give me time to rest first? Then, I promise I shall tell you. My sides hurt from laughing, and I do not think I am able to tell such a long tale as of now." Merry and Pippin looked at each other doubtfully, but shrugged and walked back up the hill.  
  
"Alright, but you made a promise! And we'll hold you to that!"  
  
Haíthwen sighed and dusted herself off, removing a few leaves and twigs from her hair and clothing as the group continued on. Aragorn followed by her side, laughing to himself as she tried to clean her dishevelled appearance. She saw his smothered laugh and swiped at his arm. His heart jumped again for the better as he realized how far they had traveled into the Wood.  
  
Just as he realized this, she seemed to also, for she gasped and halted abruptly, staring at the trees around her as if they were to be Orcs ready to attack. The group stopped again and turned, slightly confused at her frightened appearance to nothing but some trees. She backed away, in the direction they had just came in.  
  
"Is something the matter, Lady?" Boromir asked.  
  
"I have come too far. I dare not take another step further." She said, quickly turning to run away, but almost falling backwards as an arrow was aimed in her face by a golden haired elf that appeared as stealthily as a breeze.  
  
"Tis a little too late for that, isn't it?" An arrogant accent said from above them, and the fellowship turned about, equally shocked to find more arrows, complete with archers, completely surround them.  
  
"The Dwarf breathes so loud we could shoot you in the dark," said one of the Elves, whom Aragorn recognized, coming forwards and sweeping a cool and disdainful gaze over the company. Aragorn laid a hand on Legolas' wrist and he reluctantly lowered his bow.  
  
"It has been many summers since we saw each other, Haldir of Lórien. We come as the Walkers from Imladris, and we ask your protection."  
  
'Aragorn,' Gimli interjected before Haldir could reply, 'These woods are perilous! We must turn back!'  
  
Haíthwen seemed to agree with this, for she seemed terrified of the group that not surrounded her. The moment the nearest guard let their bows drop, she knocked the bow from one of the elves, and elbowed another in the stomach. She took off, deftly loosing herself from sight in mere seconds as she ran as swiftly as she could.  
  
Haldir showed no emotion or surprise at this, but signalled for 4 Elves to pursue her, and they ran off as well, and almost immediately were naught to be seen amongst the trees.  
  
"Know this, son of earth," he said coolly as he looked upon Gimli with something akin to distaste, "You have entered the domain of the Lady of the Wood. There can be no going back. The same with your friend. She will return, and will be judged along with the rest of you."  
  
"The Lady expects us, does she not?" Aragorn asked his eyes searching Haldir for any betrayal of information.  
  
Haldir inclined his head in acknowledgement, briefly looking the Fellowship over, then returned his attention to the now both irate and alarmed Gimli.  
  
"Come," he said solemnly. "She is waiting."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	6. VI Nurtale Mi Vanwie

Another post, another chapter. two in one day is pretty good, ain't it? I have nothing else to say, except I want a beta-reader!!! Please????  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter VI nurtalë mí vanwië  
  
[Hiding is the Lost]  
  
The elves led the Fellowship through the woods, a vast forest filled with Mellyrn trees: trees with a bark of silver and leaves that stayed gold all winter. They rested a night in the high trees, then proceeded the next morning towards the fair city of Lórien.  
  
Aragorn and Gimli sat and wondered of what had happened to Haíthwen, and talked that night when the others had drifted into sleep.  
  
"I had not thought she would have fled from the elves, though it certainly was a possibility." Gimli said as he lit his pipe and sat down, leaning against the trunk of the tree.  
  
"To what do you mean?" Aragorn asked, the thought crossing his thoughts that this dwarf was more mindful of things that Aragorn had previously considered.  
  
"It was not hard to miss the fact that she has avoided our elf throughout the journey here; and surely, you are her friend in this company, and far longer a friend than the rest of us. Surely you know just as well as I have guessed of her reasoning for it." He said, continuing puffing on his pipe contentedly, blowing the odd smoke ring.  
  
"What have you guessed, Master Gimli?" Aragorn asked, quietly as he could because elves patrolled the area around them. "For indeed I have known all the time of her lineage, but 'tis not information that would bode well were it shared freely, even now." Gimli only chuckled and slapped Aragorn on the back pleasantly.  
  
"Peace, my friend! I believe I have figured out her past, and I assure you I completely agree with her secrecy. After all, tis not every day we come across a. sprite as herself. No indeed, I would have felt the same were I in her position. Poor lass," He said, showing what may have been the first display of pity Aragorn had ever seen from a dwarf.  
  
"But when did you first know? Indeed, t'was only a fortnight ago that Legolas saw it himself."  
  
"Only a fortnight?" Gimli asked, laughing heartily and almost dropping his pipe from his hand. "And he should have been the first to know, undeniably! I had known since the stair of Moria that she was one! Amazing that he could not see! Oh, I shall have fun with this bit of knowledge, sure enough!"  
  
Aragorn frowned at this, but he relaxed as well, for surely the dwarf only jested; he would not tell something of such an importance.  
  
The Fellowship had rested as well as could be expected, for the Hobbits, though tired, did not enjoy sleeping in a tree as much as Legolas had, for obvious reasons. The continued on, pausing a couple hours before noon, and soon enough, another party of elves joined them. The company slowly recognized the group as the elves that had set out in search of Haíthwen.  
  
Boromir looked over the group, and almost thought perhaps she had eluded their search, when one of the Silvan elves pushed her forwards and into view. The group had not the chance to speak, if even Haíthwen looked in the mood to speak, for once again the assembly set back on the path towards the Elven city. Boromir was surprised of her appearance, as must have been the rest of the Fellowship, for they glanced often back at her, who refused to meet their gazes. He had wondered of her origins, for she seemed very vague, unwilling to converse or say anything about herself. When he had inquired about it earlier, she had said very little, 'I am myself, I am here, and I am a friend. I come from everywhere, I hail from nowhere. What more is there to discern about my life?' Boromir had found no answers, but as she was returned, her present state raised even more questions.  
  
Her cloak and vest had been taken, as well as her pack and belt, which held her daggers. She seemed much more tense, and smaller and more lithe without her overcloak. Where her hands seemed simply clasped behind her back at a first glance, they were tied at the wrists and elbows by a thin, grey rope. The elves pushed her along the path as she struggled against the ropes, her position and deportment clearly showing she had no intentions of staying, had she the choice to leave. A dark red scratch only above her eyebrow also told that there had been a struggle, and apparently the Elves surrounding her had come out victorious, although in not much better condition as Haíthwen. Boromir could see bruises and cuts on their arms, and one limped slightly.  
  
Her face showed many stories in itself. As they walked along, Boromir glanced back occasionally in her direction, and grew even more distrustful of her. In one moment, when the elves were near, she would seem infuriated at being captured, and kept her head high and a glare at all the surrounding elves. But the occasional flicker of emotion in her eyes showed much more. When she thought no one was looking, she seemed genuinely terrified of her surroundings and the elves around her, glancing around at every small sound, looking like a trapped and frightened animal.  
  
With every small step, she was less and less willing to enter the forest, the elves pushing her along more frequently as they marched amongst the trees. Aragorn, when he saw her state of misery, was concerned, and approached Haldir.  
  
"Should it really be necessary for the Lady to be bound as she is?" He asked when he caught up to the elf.  
  
"Aye. We would have not had to do so if she had not proved so. perilous to the guard. Had she entered quietly, we would have had no objections to her proceeding peacefully.  
  
"But look upon her!" Aragorn cried, keeping his voice low yet as dangerous as he dared. "She is nothing but a child! She has feared Lórien and elves for as long as I can remember, and years before that. If you were frightened, in a place you wished least to be, I'm sure you would have reacted likewise!" Aragorn was pleased for a brief moment as Haldir paused and considered his words.  
  
"I shall admit: I may have acted in a similar fashion. However, she was difficult in subduing, the whole party sent after her was needed to stop her. And judge their states for yourself; a mere child could not have injured four of her Lady's best scouts as she had.  
  
"Now, being as a member of your Company, she shall be treated such as the others. However, she shall be accompanied by the elves and shall remain bound until Galadriel herself passes her judgement, not beforehand." He said, hissing the last part and turning away again, ending his end of the parley.  
  
Aragorn sighed and released his hand from the hilt of Andúril, much to his surprise he knew not that he held it. He left it at that, for he knew it was pointless to continue arguing, for no good would come of it. He was somewhat reassured that now she would be seen by Galadriel, and he had fulfilled his oath to Gandalf; yet at present he felt worry and unease at how she was treated, for surely she deserved none of this. Her evident distress and discomfort helped none in easing his soul.  
  
Haíthwen now was being led by the shoulder by one of the elves, and looked more pained than before. None of the fellowship ahead of her were the wiser in seeing the other hand of the Elf who guided her, which held a small Elven dagger at the small of her back, threatening her to behave.  
  
They came to a large stream, which flowed rapidly and swiftly. Haldir named it the Celebrant. He whistled shortly and another blond elf, clad in grey, appeared from the trees. He threw across a grey rope, and the elf caught it and secured it around a tree on the far shore. Two more ropes were fastened above it, for the non-Elven to hold as they crossed the rope bridge.  
  
When at length most of the Company had crossed the stream, and only Aragorn and Haíthwen remained on the first side of the shore, one of the taller elves approached her.  
  
"I am not permitted to remove your bindings to ease your crossing, so I shall carry you across." He said, drawing nearer to her.  
  
"Hayl no! Over my cold dead body will I allow an elf," she spat out the word, contempt dripping off it, "carry me across when I am perfectly capable of walking it myself!" She said, jumping away from his grasp and attempting to hide behind Aragorn, who only stayed her towards him, his hand against her back.  
  
« Lórëala, ae nauthim athradon i hir. » [If I thought you could get across the river.] Aragorn started, trying to convince her it was the only way. He wished he knew more Quenya, her first-learned Elvish tongue, but he spoke in Sindarin, the one he knew the best. She would not let him continue.  
  
« Ávan! Elendië váquet ve sina! » [I won't! I refuse to travel as such.] she cried, abashed at the thought of being carried across like mere luggage. "Okay, I'd rather walk across myself that let him carry me!" she said, her tone icy and unkind. "Let Aragorn cross first, then get rid of the ropes above, and I shall cross on my own two feet, arms bound." She said defiantly, standing her ground. The elf looked at Aragorn sceptically; if he was not intrigued by her actions, then he was perplexed at Aragorn's use of Sindárin, and her reply in Quenya. The elf was a young member of the Guard, but even still he had yet to see such strange foreigners. Aragorn looked doubtful himself, but then he sighed and nodded.  
  
"How shall we know you will not attempt to escape by jumping into the river? It is icy cold, and you would not last long."  
  
"The thought had crossed my mind." she mumbled, and the elf tensed and glared at her. "Well, I'd suppose you'd just have to trust me. I'd let you follow behind me, but if you're on as well, I'll lose any balance I may have."  
  
The elf still looked unsure, but Aragorn vouched for her actions and would take blame if she tried to escape.  
  
"I hope you are not planning to leave, now that my neck is on the line for you." He whispered as he walked towards the edge. He crossed the bridge before the higher two ropes were taken off.  
  
Aragorn, now on the other side, thought for a moment that she may have allowed him to carry her, when Haíthwen edged towards the stream, looking wary of the water below her. The elf did take a step towards her, but before he could close the distance between them, she jumped onto the rope, the grey cord not so much as bending under her weight. She turned and walked backwards, glancing warily again at the elf who might make a move to follow her.  
  
Before the elf could say anything or do anything, she turned and continued walking across the rope, almost like she floated above it. It seemed like, as she walked across, it was a normal floor that she walked on, that she walked as freely and as proudly as any noblewoman; but could anyone have looked closely, they would have seen her feet never actually touching the rope. She concentrated hard, taking most of her remaining strength to make a floor of air underneath her and her body, and she thanked Elbereth she had had the gall to experiment with the power of Air enough to save her dignity from being carried across like an invalid. If I can save nothing else, let me at least keep my dignity. And my stubbornness, that may come in handy later, she thought ironically.  
  
Her step suddenly faltered when she had crossed over the land again and one of the elves brushed against the rope. She felt the air dissipate as her concentration cracked, and she slipped off the rope, but Aragorn was there and caught her before she hit the ground, landing lightly in his arms. She bit her lip to stifle a cry as all her weight leaned against him through her back, and she could feel an old wound re-open. Damn elves, damn orcs, damn rope. she thought as her vision clouded  
  
"I told them not to touch the rope." she hissed under her breath, and she up-righted herself as best she could, Aragorn steadying her. She mumbled a small 'thank you' before she was ushered away by the guards. He brought his hand up to rub his face, but stopped himself when he saw the red glossy look of his fingertips. 'Blood?' he thought, wiping it off on a spare handkerchief from his pocket. 'But where could it have come from?'  
  
His gaze shifted in dismay as his eyes fell on Haíthwen. He could see no visible wound, but that did not mean it was not there, if indeed it was her own blood. He would have to wait till they reached the city, for the sentry would not allow him near her to inquire anyways. He let it rest, although it was still on his mind; she did not look injured in anyway, so in all likelihood it was only a minor cut. That or she was slowly bleeding to death and would not tell anyone. Either-or, he thought as he sighed heavily, he could only watch and wait.  
  
They continued onwards, approaching the Elven city. A small dispute arose when Haldir went to blindfold Gimli, who refused it stubbornly.  
  
"Master Dwarf, Master Elf," Haíthwen spoke up timidly, breaking Gimli and Legolas out of their argument with her soft words. "Here I am -tied- with a knife to my back, and I have yet to openly complain about it. Seriously, what is so terrible of a mere blindfold?"  
  
Aragorn chided them as well, and the Fellowship all agreed to be blindfolded, even Haíthwen, much to the dismay of the others, who thought it unfair that she was to be blind as well as bound.  
  
"I care not," she said weakly and did not so much as protest as the cover slipped over her eyes.  
  
The company was strangely silent, and none other could explain why except that perhaps they were ashamed they complained, while one of their kin was subject to much worse. The elf who lead her paid not nearly enough attention to her weary state as was needed, and she stumbled several times, falling hard and not being able to catch herself. The elves finally conceded to remove her blindfold; after she fell over a tree root and hit her head, unable to stand steadily on her own for a couple moments.  
  
When the rest of the blindfolds were finally removed, the Fellowship found themselves on the outskirts of the luminous city of Lórien. Haíthwen seemed rather pale to Frodo and the other hobbits, who looked rather worriedly at her as they found time to turn their gaze away from their wonderful surroundings. She winced every time one of the guards touched her back, although they knew not why.  
  
Haíthwen cared not for the sights around her. She had seen them many times, and in her present state, she cared not if the city was the Halls of Mandos, or the darkest towers of Mordor; they were just there, and she was a prisoner of her surroundings.  
  
Her last ounce of hope at escape had vanished as she had crossed the Celebrant, for while she was blindfolded she lost her sense of direction, and even if she could have distinguished one tree from another at one point of time, she could hardly find the strength to care or remember now, never minding the fact that she most likely would've had to fight her way out. undeniably something she could not have done, even if she was at full strength.  
  
The knife that continued to be pressed into her back was another constant reminder of her captivity and sense of utter hopelessness. And it failed to do anything good for the thin fragility of her wings, which lay folded against her back and pressed painfully under her arms. She vaguely felt the thin cuts, tears, and abrasions that covered the gossamer limbs, and the cold trickle of blood that was making her back clammy.  
  
In a sardonic sense, she almost hoped the blood would alert the guard that maybe, just maybe, he should find some other way to intimidate her.  
  
She shifted her hands against the wounds as much as her shoulders would allow, but she could not stop the slow trickle of blood, and soon she felt the sticky liquid on her hands and soaking her shirt. Of course, she thought, he's carrying a cursed Elven blade. Hasn't even cut my shirt. Stupid elves. miserable gits. Stupid, rotten, damn-assed anal retentive blonde dim-witted dense as a sack of doorknobs, mother frickin' bleeping jebbus dancing buddy Christ bunch of. dolts. Dolts? What even is a dolt? For sure I could think of better insults than that. Maybe if I didn't feel like a piece of chopped liver. LIVER??? Yuck, hate the stuff. do people always think such absolutely random moronic things when under the influence of suchlike, or is it just me?  
  
It's just me. I have gone insane. Hurrah!  
  
She looked around her and groaned. Well, this was it. They drew closer to the Lord and Lady's main audience chamber incredibly quickly. Now, she had no choice of escaping, if ever there was one after the first failed attempt.  
  
Fear slowly dawned on her, and she began to draw nervous again. She trembled as she was led through the doors to the chamber. The only thing she knew was the pain in her wings, the throb in her head and the fear in her heart as the doors thudded closed.  
  
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	7. VII Lumenna Entulesse

I still haven't decided if I like how this chapter turns out. hmmm.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter VII lúmenna entulessë  
  
[upon the hour of return]  
  
This feeling of not knowing was beginning to upset me. I had not an idea in the world of how this was going to go. Would Galadriel be angry with me? Would she be cross that I had not perished with the rest of my people? Or would she be happy of my return? Would I be welcome here? Or kept a prisoner? Or would I turn to a dish of pudding, I thought stupidly. You moron.  
  
But I think this may have been why I was upset of entering her wood: I knew not what was going to happen. All the years-no, millennia-of knowing the Lady of the Wood like her own shadow, it frightened me that I knew not how she would react. The one curse of my people was just that, since we live almost forever, we have tendencies to forget out pasts... or what we did yesterday. Too long a period of time, we forget memories and things just to keep ourselves innocent. Why?. Don't ask me, I know not. Gandalf had warned me in his letter, now that I begin thinking back on it, that it is dangerous to forget the past in fear of the future. I knew not what he meant in his words, but a nagging voice almost screamed at me that it had everything to do with this situation.  
  
I slipped farther into my mind, shutting the outside world out as I thought. Could Galadriel have changed that much over the years? The stories of the cold beauty and splendour of the Lady of the Golden Wood, of her aloofness and control, had not failed to reach my ears, and I was completely shocked to have found myself believing these stories: the word of tongue of those who had never seen the Lady nor been in her company. Ridiculous. Absurd. Why now was I thinking this through? Because I'm here? Last time for repentance before Death comes to kick our bucket?  
  
Get a Grip, Aíca. These thoughts are absolute folly, and you know them to be untrue.  
  
Yet why could I not shake the feeling of pure fear in my heart?  
  
I shivered and whimpered as the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel entered the room, stepping as lightly as ever halfway down the steps from the dais. I averted my eyes and found special interest in a small bug that wandered its way across the room by my feet, desperately wishing that I could become as small and virtually insignificant as it. The sight I expected to see was no different from what I had previously seen, even though I looked not, for indeed, Elves changed little over the years, especially at their ages. Celeborn would look over the fellowship with a frown as he would notice that Mithrandir was not present. Galadriel would test the members with her mind games (but even I groaned at my use of 'games': 't were nothing of the sort, and it was not often at all that I would speak ill of the Lady and her devices, despite my uneasiness of her) and bid them rest, knowing that they were weary and wished time to repose. It almost shocked me that I thought of this at the present. do all people think such random and. well, stupid thoughts as these while under pressure? I already asked this. Only *I* do.  
  
I wanna go home. I want my mommy.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Nine hath set out from Imladris, and yet of the original nine walkers, only eight stand here now. Tell me, where is Gandalf the Grey, for I much desire to speak with him." Celeborn spoke as he looked over the members before him. The hobbits bowed their heads, as well as the dwarf and the small girl that stood to the side, flanked by two guards. None brought forth any response, and Galadriel took on a wistful look as she looked upon them with newfound emotion in her bright eyes.  
  
"He has fallen into darkness." She said sadly as she sent a knowing glance at Celeborn, and flitted her gaze across each member of the Fellowship. Each member responded differently as she offered them a choice of paths, and she smiled gently as she found each was prepared to take on their tasks. Her thoughts lingered on a few: Aragorn who did not feel himself prepared to lead; Frodo who felt burdened of his quest yet held no doubts about the final end and what had to happen; Boromir who loved his homeland yet was slowly falling for the power of the Ring. and the last, the young girl who had succeeded in blocking the thoughts of the Lady from her mind.  
  
Galadriel felt an inkling towards the girl since she had first stepped into the room, yet had had nothing as of yet to prove her suspicions. Yet this; not one of yet had fully succeeded in hiding their thoughts from the Lady. save one, one who brought great grief upon the heart of Galadriel.  
  
She probed further, pressing her mind upon the unknown girl with more strength, but she could receive no message from her other than vague imaginings, fleeting images of fright and worry, and a desire for comfort and. mother, perhaps? She abruptly stopped her attack when the girl's forehead creased in pain, and she finally brought her head up to meet the gaze of Galadriel. Violet eyes sang in alarm as they met her own, and Galadriel's heart softened, then cried out as memories started assailing her, memories long thought forgotten.  
  
She looked over the Winged Sprite with sadness and solace as she noticed the changes Haíthiminë had gone through over these many years. She had heard Mithrandir tell of her growth, but stories paled in comparison to the Lady that stood before Galadriel. Here stood a mature, grown woman that had faced such sorrow that was not meant in any way to be born upon her shoulders. Her mind, now in all access to Galadriel --for, in Haíthiminë's shock, she had dropped all guard and her resolve slipped,-- showed such mourning, pain and loneliness that it brought tears to her eyes. Still a child, an innocent, forced into adulthood long before she would have properly adjusted to it. Yet still, Haíthiminë held the dignity and grace that was inherent of her race, and many more qualities that Galadriel could not pass into words. A fear of the future, a longing for forgiveness, a hidden (perhaps lost) innocence and a beauty that surpassed that of the elves, when it was desired to be presented in turn. This is the Queen that her little fëa had grown into?  
  
That brief moment passed as Galadriel brushed upon a far hidden memory, one buried deep in the subconscious. Images flashed in her head, images that both horrified her and saddened her. Ones that, as she looked deeper, she could sense a feeling of hostility towards her, bitter guilt. She looked upon Haíthiminë and saw the pain upon her features, pain of a mother for her lost child, of a friend for one lost, and one who has loved and lost.  
  
"No longer shall you be prisoner here, but for the rest of the days of the world shall you be free to come and go as you wish." Galadriel spoke softly. As she spoke, Haíthiminë also heard a voice in her head, one that was reassuring yet still potent: {Welcome back, « Fëanya », friend from far and long ago.}  
  
Galadriel signalled to a guard at her side to remove her binds. One stepped behind her and deftly removed the knots and ropes around her hands, then her shoulders. She bit her lip as a strong pull jarred the unseen wound on her back, and her shoulders slumped forwards and she swayed forwards slightly. Her legs suddenly buckled and she fell to her knees, and she looked up again at the golden Lady before her. She clenched her arms at her sides, hugging them across her stomach as if they had indeed caused her great pain, which indeed they had.  
  
Before any of the fellowship could reach her side, Galadriel knelt down forwards to the front of her, and gathered the still shaken Haíthiminë in her arms, hugging her tightly, and yet carefully, as one would cradle a newborn. For a moment Haíthiminë was stiff with surprise, but she soon softened and returned the hug weakly.  
  
"I should have never turned you away, Fëanya. It has caused you much grief and loss, I beg your pardons." She whispered as tears threatened to defeat her. How she wished she could remove all the dark stains from her soul, and ease the little one's spirit.  
  
Haíthwen pulled away from the hug, her eyes shining with an astonishing light. She shook her head vehemently, and pulled Galadriel up from the ground.  
  
{You only did what you thought was right. It cannot be undone, so let it pass.} she said shyly, the light from her eyes fading as she bowed her head again. To the Fellowship, she seemed timid amongst the Elves, and seemed much smaller, humbler, and frightened than the group had ever seen her to be. Galadriel smiled warmly and turned to the rest of the Fellowship, who watched the exchange with interest and curiosity.  
  
"You are much welcomed in the Wood, and shall be left to rest. Be not weary of outside danger, for no evil or threat shall plague you whilst in the Woods of LothLórien." Celeborn spoke, authority shining like a mantle around him but his voice kind and welcoming.  
  
She looked at Haíthiminë and smiled. "Do not trouble yourselves. For no harm has come far into these woods, and you will be safe. Go and rest, regain the strength you have lost," Galadriel wished them, as another elf entered and lead them through down the paths to where they could slumber in peace.  
  
Galadriel watched as Haíthiminë left next to last, only followed by Aragorn who was much relieved of her release. Before she could no longer, she sent a thought to each. To Haíthiminë: {None can heal if there are no wounds to be seen.} To Aragorn: {Tend her wounds, but be mindful of the ones that appear not on the skin.} She watched as they disappeared, and she turned to Celeborn, who turned finally to her.  
  
"It is much amended that she has been made to return, although I much would have preferred she to return of her own free will." He said with a kind yet troubled expression.  
  
"As would I had she had more time. Yet time is being stolen away from us, and we can do nothing to retrieve it. Some things require compelling... Yet I fear too long has passed as it is. She has changed much," She spoke, looking up to the stars, "As have I."  
  
"What of Alassëa?" He asked.  
  
"Dead." she said sadly, "She died within a week of their departure." They both walked through the doors, heading solemnly to their rooms.  
  
"Such things burden her: she has wings, yet prefers to crawl through life. I fear for her. more now than ever before. Her life balances upon a high cliff, what if she is to fall?" She cried softly, and Celeborn wrapped his arm around her. "But not all hope is lost." He said, remembering one member of the fellowship.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The group was led to a small flit in the woods, where they found elves waiting for them with food, drink, and fresh, clean clothes. Not much was said as they all wearily rested; the hobbits falling asleep almost immediately, Legolas and Gimli off taking a stroll, and Boromir, Aragorn and Haíthwen sitting around a small fire, warming them.  
  
Aragorn looked over at her, desperately wishing he could talk to her without the presence of Boromir. She sat off to the side a ways, staring blankly at the fire while clutching her bundle of clothing to her stomach. She had naught said a word since they left from speaking with the Lord and Lady, and Aragorn would have shot himself in the foot to know what she thought of, if indeed she did think. She seemed far too comatose to do any of that, until she suddenly jumped up and walked off through the forest before Aragorn could ask. Worried for her immensely, for indeed she seemed to have mislaid all love for existence, he picked himself up and followed her, trying his best to keep silent as he tread through the worn forest paths. She could not have heard him unless she attempted to, and in her state she seemed to hear naught around her. Still, he took care. She followed a trail towards a small yet deep stream of water that flowed through Lórien. She kneeled on the edge of the water, pulling off her outer tunic. Aragorn blushed and almost turned away, but he could not turn as he watched her soak the shirt in the crystal clear water, clearly seeing red blood seeping from it in the bright moonlight. He walked over to her, unable to stay hidden any longer.  
  
"Through all your pain you continue to refuse help from the elves, or even me." He said as he knelt beside her, taking her hands in his, pulling them out of the cold water. She jumped at his touch, but calmed as she looked into his face. She turned away as she continued scrubbing her shirt in the water, not saying anything.  
  
"Let me see." Aragorn said, and she winced as she twisted the wet shirt, removing the water. He asked once more when she ignored him, and she looked at him, slightly annoyed but she hung her head. Her lips whispered something, but Aragorn heard not what was uttered.  
  
"Turn around." she said a little more clearly as he made no attempt to move. He stingily turned, somewhat glad that the light was dark and he was not facing her so she could not notice the blush on his cheeks. He looked up to the sky, the stars and moon shining brightly. His thoughts shifted to Arwen, as they usually did when the moon was full and the stars shone. He missed her terribly, and, even though he was honoured that she would give up immortality for him, he felt so worried that she could dare to face the same fate as he, feared the day when she may fade away into dust like all those doomed to die.  
  
He was shaken out of his reverie when he felt a small tug on the back of his cloak, and turned to see her clutching her shirt desperately around her upper body. She sat down on a rock that was beside the stream, and let her bare feet hang in the stream. Aragorn knelt down beside her, and was shocked to see blood flowing down her back slowly from numerous cuts. He ran a hand over the cuts, and he felt a thin membrane that covered her back shudder under his touch. He turned his head slightly, and he could see a pale crystalline membrane cover her back, shimmering with the moonlight.  
  
Wow, he thought. I have yet to actually see her wings, as pale as mist they seem.  
  
« Attolma i menelessie nai airitainiéva esselya. Nai ardalya tuluva. Nai írelya tyarniéva mardesse ve menelesse. Anta men sire ilyaurea mastalma. Ar avanta men raikalmar ve avantalme raikatyarolmain. Ar nai útukuvalye me mailenna Ná fainu me ulkallo. »  
  
A very soft, lilting voice echoed through the trees, faint and muted, until Aragorn saw it was Haíthwen who sang. He knew not all the words, for the language spoken was indeed elvish, but a strange dialect he had never heard. Still, it sounded beautiful, in an ethereal sort of way, even though the voice that sang wavered and trembled slightly. It strengthened him as he set to work cleaning the wounds with some athelas he kept wrapped in his pocket.  
  
"Haíthwen, I wish you would have come to me earlier."  
  
"What could I have said, Aragorn? That, dear me, my back hurts, can you take a look at it, thus illustrating to ALL that I had wings? I'm not ready to do that!" she shouted, surprising him. He gaped at her, but she tensed and turned away again. "I am sorry, Aragorn. That was uncalled for." Her shoulders shook as she turned towards him and looked him in the eye. Shining eyes met his, and he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.  
  
"It's just that I am not ready to throw all care away when that care has been the only thing that has kept me alive for over three thousand years."  
  
"I meant no offence. It's just that I worry about you. You are a sister to me, I wish I only could ease your soul."  
  
"What's that over there?" Haíthwen asked, pointing behind him to a small shrubbery. Aragorn turned, but saw nothing. When he turned back to her, already she had quickly slipped on a long white embroidered shirt with a very low back, one that allowed air at her wounds and allowed her wings to unfold, if she so wanted. She sighed in contentment. The shirt, although baring her back, kept her wonderfully warm, even in the slightly chilled air. And it was the familiar style of faërie clothing that made her feel a little more at home. She laughed slightly at the simple trick Aragorn always fell for. He groaned, but smiled, for her mood had been improved with one unforeseen trick. He moved to grab some bandages, but she claimed it too bothersome to bind such a wound.  
  
"Will you return to the rest of the Fellowship for sleep? I have not seen you rest since meeting by Moria, and even for you that is too long." She shook her head, brushing her hair and bangs from her face, which had begun growing since the concealment spell had been halted, a little faster than Haíthwen could grow accustomed to. By tomorrow, she thought, it would be to my back! I bet this is Galadriel's doing. man, do I hate long hair.. She knows that I hate it. twisted sense of humour, that Galadriel. she thought, unsure of whether she truly felt as she did of it or just needed something to complain about.  
  
"I cannot sleep, but I shall return on the morrow. I know of some elves who wish to hear a proper lament for a wonderful person." She said as she turned with a last wistful smile and walked away. She paused a moment, and turned back to Aragorn slowly.  
  
"Aragorn.thank you." She said, meditatively, slowly, and Aragorn looked at her again.  
  
"For what, my Lady?" He saw her eyes, glowing with such joy and light as he hadn't really ever seen before.  
  
"You called me Haíthwen! You actually called me by my name!!!" She said, incredulous as she laughed and ran back to him, floating over the ground as if she weighed no more than air. She hugged him tightly, and Aragorn thought for a moment that perhaps she was made of air, as she weighed nothing in his arms. He hesitated in astonishment, 'I called her Haíthwen? Damn, the things I let slip when worried!' but hugged her back, lighter than her own embrace because her cuts still had not been bandaged.  
  
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She cried as she kissed him lightly on his cheek and let go, running off through the woods, singing lightly as her skips and footsteps echoed through the forest before fading away.  
  
He stood there, stunned for a moment, but immensely pleased that her mood had so dramatically changed for the better. Indeed, there was nothing sadder than to see a faërie depressed. Save perhaps a depressed elf. At the moment, he could not decide which was worse, and hoped he never lived to see the results of the former. Many stories say faëries fade to lost spirits when heartbroken or depressed, forevermore to walk the earth in sorrow. They also say that faëries are spirits of gods who grant people wishes. while he had nothing to disprove it, he doubted it as well.  
  
Although, he thought sardonically, it was also told that all faëries are drunkards and morons, who wiped themselves out by jumping off cliffs in masses while intoxicated, forgetting they could fly.  
  
Yeah. Right.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	8. VIII Yetamir Nalta

Chapter eight. well, sorry it's taken so long to post these, as I just kinda stopped for exams (grr. stupid teachers), then I couldn't get the internet, then FF.Net was down (grr, again.) .  
  
Disclaimer: Come on. I DARE you. Sue me. (wow, is that a dare or double dare?)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter VIII yétamir Nalta  
  
[look into the mirror]  
  
  
  
I walked along the forest paths aimlessly, not having any destination in mind. I felt the occasional shiver run down my spine as I noticed passing elves stopping and staring at me, and I did all I could to hold my head high as I passed them, bidding them perhaps a greeting. I did not even have an idea as to why they could be staring. true enough, I was a girl and not wearing a dress, but instead trousers, but still, I am quite sure they had seen another woman before in trousers, even if it is not common in this age. How I wished I was in a faërie city. there, they didn't mind what you wore, be it a short skirt, a long dress, or pants; indeed, it was wonderful not to be judged on what you wore or who you were related to. You were only what you were in heart, not in material worth. Sheesh, nowadays, it doesn't matter who you are, it's what you look like and what you can do for the war effort. Sad, sad, sad.  
  
I knew before the end of the week, someone would question my brief placement in this fellowship, be it someone inside its circle or amongst the elves here. I wondered what I was going to do as of now. Would I. could I join the Fellowship? I did not know if I wished to, for indeed, I could not go to Mordor with them, if indeed they decided to journey there, and what if they went to Gondor? I shuddered at the thought of being surrounded by Men of Gondor, for indeed they were too proud and cunning.  
  
With notable exceptions, of course. Aragorn was noble, proud as well, but not to a fault. Maybe it was his Elvish upbringing, but he knew when to admit he was wrong. Really, he was the only person with whom I fully trust my life to, in this Fellowship. Boromir is too proud, I think. And I know he desires the ring, though he tries in all vain attempts to resist its will. Had times been different, I think I could have called him friend, but then that always remains: My heart does not trust him. Fact, I think I might feel sorry for him, when I'm not scared of him. He's big, he's tall, and he's intimidating (but maybe that's my height talking.).  
  
The hobbits were so young and innocent, I don't think they really knew what they were getting themselves into when the joined this quest of theirs. True, they were competent enough, and a pleasure to be around as companions- for the short time I have known them- but I don't think they could complete this journey, let alone have gotten this far without all the aid of their friends. Pippin was my favourite, he was always cheery, and he always could find a way to put a smile on my face, His innocence was refreshing.  
  
Gimli, though stubborn as a mule, I'm sure is caring when he wants to be. He just seems so. I don't know, gruff. And threatening. And I think he knows. maybe he even did before Legolas, I'm not sure. I don't have anything against dwarfs, for indeed, though we had no rapport to them as we did with elves, they were always nice. And got along well with the Olvaralië, the earth faëries, who loved mining as much as the average dwarf.  
  
Frodo, how I pitied him! I truly felt sorry for him, for how could one like him hold out so strongly against the will of the Ring? His burden must be tenfold how I feel as of now, and I truly felt heartened that he had such a strong will to continue, even though Gandalf is not here to help him. The Ring he wears around his neck, however, leaves me much frightened. Has been almost a week now since the last nightmare woke me from slumber, and only because I have dared not sleep. Though I wished to help him carry his burden, I also cannot get near to the Ring! Some help I would be in any case. Perhaps I could ward off ill dreams of others, but I could do none for my own. Perhaps I should talk to Galadriel about them, for she has many healing powers, maybe she could teach me something. But every time I look at her, my heart turns to ice as I remember Alassëa.  
  
But the last member, Legolas. About him I have no coherent thought. I do not know if I trust him, or fear him. I still jump when I realize he's beside me, and more often that not I have found myself avoiding walking near him. But at the same time, I would rather be near him than near another elf of Lórien, even Haldir, whom once I had known and trusted. I guess I could not even begin to figure him out, for every time I think of him my thoughts go hot and cold, and I cannot decide whether I like him or not.  
  
Hah, heaven forbid I should fall in love with him. Ha!  
  
I sighed heavily as I approached my favourite tree to climb, and set my cloak at the base of the large trunk; one simply cannot climb trees in long skirts and/or cloaks, as I found out the hard way when I was much, much younger. I climbed the lower limbs of a tree, hopping lightly from branch to branch. I smiled as I reached the highest branches, feeling a slight breeze whistle through the golden leaves, and landed lightly on a smaller branch.  
  
"Fancy meeting you here, my Lady." A soft voice whispered, and jumped around to see Legolas sitting lazily on a branch slightly above me. I must have lost balance in my shock, for my foot slipped off the branch and fell backwards. A hand shot out to grab me, but it missed as well.  
  
Since I had no choice, I spread my wings, catching the air swiftly as I slowed myself down, landing almost as lightly as I had intended on a lower branch. I thanked Galadriel most humbly for the bare backed shirt that saved me from the long fall, one that would have hurt, quite substantially at that, I realized as I peered down from the high tree.  
  
A figure fell down to the side of me, and I turned dazedly as the concerned face of Legolas came into view.  
  
"Are you alright? Surely I did not expect you to be startled as such, had I known."  
  
"Shut up, Legolas." I said, smiling ironically at the thought of him being worried.  
  
"Are you okay?" He asked again, cautiously, holding my arm as I peered over the branch of the tree again, starting to feel somewhat frightened now that I could clearly see how far I would have fallen. Only luck would have it the only tree I climb in all of Lórien would have to be the tallest.  
  
"Hmm? Oh, yeah, quite fine, thank you." I said as I leaned away from the edge, my heart starting to beat quite quickly, even though I was in no danger of falling again. I looked back to where Legolas was kneeling on the branch, his arm still firmly holding my own. His eyes, however, lo longer were focused on me. but rather my wings, as I peered back, that still fluttered from my shoulder blades.  
  
I moved my arm away from him slowly, chills running down my spine as I saw the way he looked at them, and felt how he did not let go right away. His eyes stared at my wings, as if he was drawn to them. Subconsciously, I could understand where he could draw such a fascination, for in all things elves could do, they could not fly. But I trembled at the way he stared at them, but whether the look was one of amazement or something else, I could not tell. He raised his other hand and slowly reached out to touch one. His warm fingers brushed up against them, sending shivers again down my spine, but not unpleasant ones.  
  
Suddenly, he looked back to my eyes, and he seemed to snap out of it. He let me go, and to my surprise, he blushed faintly, as he averted his eyes. His hand left the gossamer wings, and I could not help but feel disappointed, shocked though I was.  
  
"My apologies, I did not mean to frighten you, nor stare."  
  
"You should be!" I cried, anger rising in my voice. "I could have fallen to my death! Then who would have had to clean that mess up? Me!!" I said, giving him the coldest look I could muster. When I saw the look of regret on his face, I couldn't contain my laughter.  
  
"Oh, Legolas! I'm only kidding, you daft cow!" I laughed, and smiled even more when he smiled too. "It wasn't your fault, and I'm fine, so don't worry about it!"  
  
He smiled once more, and leaned back against the tree trunk, as I stood up and stretched my wings quickly before letting them fold and conform to my back. I couldn't help the blush of my cheeks as I saw Legolas looking at me again, and suddenly I felt quite exposed, wishing I had not left my cloak at the base of the tree.  
  
"What's it like? To be able to fly amongst the skies, I mean," He asked, sounding a little shy himself as he cautiously guarded his expressions and carefully chose his words.  
  
The question caught me off guard, for I have not -to this day- been able to properly describe it to anyone who could not fly themselves.  
  
"Well. It differs, I guess. when you're big, it feels like your gliding though the air, like a bird, although it's tiring and isn't done much anyways. but when you're small." I paused and looked up to the sky, which was ablaze with the colours of the sunset. A small smile appeared as I tried to find the words to properly express the feeling, as well as remembering when the last time I had been small enough to fly as such was. "When you're small, it's like you're a feather, being blown gently by the wind. It's like floating down a river, but then it's also as if you could walk across it, barely touching the surface. It's like commanding the air around you to do whatever you want, push you wherever you want to go. but I'm rambling." I said as I turned and sat back down on the branch, my legs hanging off the edge.  
  
"Sounds wonderful," he said quietly, and I turned back to see him, eyes closed, relaxing along the branch.  
  
"It really is, though not as amazing as it used to be," I returned, being drawn into my thoughts once again. "The last time I had flown was a long time ago, when Alassëa was little."  
  
"Who is Alassëa? You have mentioned the name before." he asked, opening his eyes and sitting up. I stopped and cursed myself for letting her name slip, and felt tears start to well up in my eyes as the memory stabbed into my consciousness like a knife.  
  
"Please, do not ask me of her to tell. If you truly wish to know, please ask Galadriel, for she will tell you. I fear I cannot speak about it." Legolas nodded, but confusion shown in his eyes, as well as questions I knew he wanted to ask, but refrain from doing so.  
  
In a way, I was sad he did not press the issue, uncomfortable though it was to speak of, I wanted someone to tell, some shoulder to cry on, and I felt right now that only Legolas could be that shoulder. My heart ached that I could start to grow attached to him so quickly, when not a half hour beforehand I knew not whether I liked him or was scared of him. Was it just because I was lonely? I mean, he was the first elf that I had spoken to in a long time, and one who had accepted what I was at that.  
  
It was only a child's crush, or so I told myself. But I knew it not to be true.it couldn't be. I was far past a child, having had a child of my own already.  
  
"I think we should be heading back now." I said quietly as I looked up to see the stars glowing brightly above. "The other's will start to worry."  
  
"I wish to remain a little longer," he said, and I nodded. I was about to spread my wings again [for now that I had opened them, I longed to fly once more,] and float down, but his hand on my arm stopped me.  
  
"I don't mean to pry or offend, but I would like to know, even a little about Alassëa. she seems dear to you, and I simply wish to know if she was one of your kin, perhaps?" he asked, cautiously again, and his eyes took on a caring edge, as if this deeply disturbed him. I unfolded my wings, and peered down to the ground.  
  
"It's lost in translation: she was my Hínacárië. Galadriel will tell you what it means in your tongue."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Haíthwen was sitting against a tree trunk, merely gazing into nothingness when Frodo came back to the talan where the fellowship all slept. He sat down beside her, content in the momentary silence that surrounded them.  
  
"Are you ever scared? About what you have to do, Frodo?" she spoke in a soft voice, still staring at some point in space. He nodded slightly, then sighed.  
  
"Most of the time, though I wish I could say differently."  
  
"What do you think is worse? Thinking that what you may need to do might harm others, or knowing that what you have to do will hurt yourself?"  
  
"Now there's a riddle and a half for you. I don't think I understand what you mean." he said, looking at the indifferent face.  
  
"Ah. You see, that's my problem, too, I don't know what I mean either. If you ever figure it out, come explain it to me." She said, smiling, and he chuckled slightly.  
  
"I think I saw you. in Galadriel's mirror." He said, caution slowing the words as he looked at her face. She wasn't much of a beauty; indeed, she looked like any other girl he had seen, except for the odd violet eyes and silver-grey hair that fell in strange wisps around her face and neck. Where the girl he had thought was her, in the mirror, seemed different, the resemblances were striking, mainly the eyes and hair. Her face was glowing with confidence, and around her hairline were strange crystal markings, starting at her forehead and trailing down her ears and neck.  
  
"What did you see?" Haíthwen asked as she nodded sadly and turned finally to look him in the eye.  
  
"You were holding a large crystal sword, and you had pale wings. You were facing a Ringwraith, and then strange gem-like markings started glowing on your forehead and neck. You then flew to Mordor." He said, leaving out the part where he saw her lifeless in a dark room. He just sat there for a moment, judging her reaction. Her eyes widened for an instant, then acceptance flew through her features, rendering her face neutral once again.  
  
"Why would I go to Mordor?" she asked herself aloud, reflecting on things that had no words.  
  
"Will you continue on with us if we do go to Mordor? Or will you stay in LothLórien, perhaps?" he asked, fiddling with the chain around his neck. She seemed not to see this, and bowed her head, staring now at her hands, folded in her lap.  
  
"Honestly, I would not go to Mordor unless I felt someone's life was in danger that I alone could help. Then again, these aren't exactly times where we can say we stick to our morals.I don't know, Frodo. I don't think I could do all that. Could you? Do you think you can go all the way to Mordor, past all Sauron's Orcs and monsters and throw the Ring into the fire?" Frodo was quiet for only a brief moment before he spoke.  
  
"I know it seems like a lot to hope for, 'specially for me, but how could I wish this upon anyone else's shoulders? I've set out and come this far, and I'll do all I can to keep going and destroy it." He said confidently, his eyes shining with bravery and courage. She smiled weakly, and nodded.  
  
"Just do the best you can do, Frodo. No one expects more than that, and everyone around you is very proud that you've come this far already. I just hope that, if I am in a position like your own, I should have as much courage and hope as you have now." She got up swiftly, and Frodo followed her, feeling the need for sleep nag at his brain. One lingering worry crossed his mind, and he took off the chain around his neck.  
  
"Can you take the ring to Mordor?" Frodo asked, less a question of 'would you' more so than an accusation of 'could you'.  
  
She turned back to him, her hair whipping around her face as she quickly spun around. She looked at the Ring offered to her in his hand, and her skin blanched visibly, even in the reduced light. He stepped closer to her, and was surprised that she took a step back. A shaky hand raised as if to reach for it, but it was quickly brought back as Haíthwen took another step back.  
  
"I-" She trembled as if frightened immensely, and she covered her ears as if to stop someone from shrieking in her ears. "I. I-I don't.no," she said unsteadily, closing her eyes and wincing. "No. Please. p-put it away," she pleaded, and Frodo closed his hand around the ring, quickly slipping the chain over his head and underneath his shirt.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asked warily, for he had yet to see a person afraid of the Ring, save perhaps Gandalf, but still at that time when Gandalf was faced with the option he seemed vehement against it being in his possession. A couple tears fell down her face as she turned away from him.  
  
"Yes. I. I mean no. I mean. I have to get out of here," she said wretchedly, seeming to fold inside of herself. In less than the second it took for Frodo to blink, she seemed to disappear, completely fading away, only the soft light of a glowing orb left in her place. Soon that too was gone as it burned through the trees away from him.  
  
Frodo sat down heavily, worry the thing that both compelled him to follow the light and the thing that kept him where he sat.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Galadriel was walking through her gardens with Legolas, talking to him about a great many things when the silver orb zoomed by them, stopping and circling Galadriel before it landed on her shoulder. Nothing more that a ball of light with wings attached the size of a small apple, it tangled itself in her hair and clung tightly to her, much to Galadriel and Legolas's amazement.  
  
"What is it?" Legolas asked, amazement stunning him for the second time that day. Galadriel frowned and touched the ball.  
  
"Not so much of what, but who," she said as she kept walking down the path, leaving Legolas to his own conclusions. He looked at it again, and gasped.  
  
"You mean. it is Haíthwen?"  
  
"Yes. You need not worry, she can not hear you. Until she turns back to her normal size, she can not hear, speak or see, she can only sense. I worry; she would not be this size unless something is terribly wrong. poor thing."  
  
"Do you know what troubles her?" he asked, concern hidden if not for Galadriel's knowing gaze. A brief smile turned once again to a frown, and she stopped.  
  
"Frodo tried to give her the Ring." She whispered as she stroked the light softly. Legolas recoiled, and an issue formed in his mind. Galadriel knew the question before it was asked, and she shook her head. "No, she will never submit to the Ring's lure. No faërie that still draws breath could ever desire its power." She said, stressing the words like an unheard threat. "The One Ring is what killed all the faëries of old. Haíthwen hears the cries and screams of her people when the Ring is near, she fears it. much like she does elves." She warned Legolas as she walked away from him, and he turned as well, leaving the gardens to return to his friends.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	9. IX Oantie Vahaya

Wow, you know what I just realized? I only write when I'm at school! No, really. everyone hates school, ya? And when we hate school, and are stuck in it for, what, 7 hours a day, we get bored, right? So when I get bored, I start writing in my really big notebook entirely devoted to Whatever- crosses-my-mind-at-the-moment, and then it's usually this story, then I get home and am bored once again because I have no life so I type everything out and then voila, the next day everyone finds that I've posted two, three chapters! And then everyone's happy except my teachers because I do no work! It's a win-win-too-bad-you-don't-count situation! *Ex-cellent!* taps fingers together à-la Mr. Burns  
  
Yeah, I know I'm weird. Maybe it's in the water or something.  
  
Disclaimer: I really wonder where the word that everyone had to have a disclaimer, because, honestly, does any really important big-shot-like guy ever come here and read all the stories and pick out which ones don't have disclaimers so he can sue them? Or is this all some big kind of government conspiracy?  
  
Irrelevant warning: Most Internet users are FBI agents posing as 14-year olds.  
  
  
  
I swear to whatever-deities-happen-to-be-available-at-the-moment: the next chapter will have no useless ramblings from the author.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter IX oantië vaháya  
  
[Went away, Far away]  
  
"Has anyone seen Lórëala around?" Aragorn asked. He looked to the faces around him, who only shook their heads.  
  
"She hasn't come back yet?" Frodo asked worriedly, gazing up at Aragorn. He shook his head.  
  
"How long has she been gone? I've been looking for her for maybe an hour or two. Has she been gone longer than that?" Aragorn asked, not showing any emotion but sensing that something indeed may be wrong. She had promised to meet him earlier that day, and when she had not been seen, Aragorn began to worry.  
  
"She left last night." Frodo said strangely, as if he had his mind on something other than the conversation. Aragorn nodded and left, Frodo following him as they walked a little ways from the camp.  
  
"We were talking last night, and something she said made me think. I took out the ring and asked her if she could have taken it to Mordor if she were faced with the task. She said no, but she seemed afraid of it- terrified, really. She then disappeared, but I thought I saw a ball of light in her place -an orb with wings. It might have been just a trick of the light or perhaps I was seeing things, it was rather late in the night." Frodo confessed as they followed the path that lead to the centre of the city, where the Galadhrim resided. Aragorn spoke nothing more, but the brooding look on his face did nothing to comfort Frodo.  
  
A light haired elf walked down the paths towards them, and the halted when the noticed the familiar garb and face of the elf.  
  
"Legolas! How fare thee?" Aragorn asked as he approached, and Legolas looked up, smiling slightly. "Have you seen Lórëala per chance today?"  
  
"She is with the Lady Galadriel, when last I saw her. She does not seem in spirit to wish to speak with anyone though." he said wistfully, sinking deep into his thoughts again. Aragorn frowned.  
  
"Is she alright?" he said, concern masking the usual harsh voice he portrayed. Legolas looked up again, and he seemed uncertain whether the answer was yes or no.  
  
"I am not sure. From what I could gather, she was distraught about something, perhaps a few things. Galadriel told that she would return when she felt ready, but until then, she said there was nothing to do but wait for her to return of her own free will."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Floating was all that was known. Floating, and sadness. Hurt, pain, pity, even apathy, they all existed.  
  
Nature shifted as floating continued. Differences. Trees, Flowers, Beings.  
  
Suddenly something was very close. A being.small, and young. The youngest.  
  
Other feelings from this being. Person. Wonder. Amazement. Those foremost. Then happiness for this place. Then duty, fear of future. Friendship. There, hidden, was a child. This child that felt the wonder and amazement.  
  
So I hung around. Here. was contented for the time being.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Sam and Merry walked through the tall grass, looking for Pippin, who had also seemed to disappear that morning. They had followed the advice of the elves they had passed, saying they had seen him come through here earlier in the day.  
  
"Pippin! Pippin? Where have you hidden yourself?" Sam called out, looking around the trees and bushes in the flowering meadow for the small hobbit.  
  
"Oi! Peregrin Took, you come out this instant!" Merry called out, growing annoyed at his disappearance.  
  
"You know, I was talking to a bunch of elves earlier, and rumour has it there's a faërie hiding 'round in these woods!" Sam said.  
  
"I heard that! Not many have seen it though, and besides, I didn't think faëries existed! Well, maybe not anymore, because I mean, if there are so many stories, maybe they did exist at some point, but still. d'you think it's true?" Merry asked, calling out Pippin's name again.  
  
"Well, I mean, maybe. I've got nothing saying they don't exist. but then again, until a while back I didn't really think elves were much more than story tales."  
  
"Pippin! Where are you?!? You don't come out soon we're gonna leave without you!"  
  
"You know, I don't think he'd object to being left here. I sure as heck wouldn't!" Sam laughed, catching himself as he stumbled over a tree root.  
  
"Will you guys keep it down already?" a voice shouted from their left, and they looked over to see Pippin's head sticking out around a tall willow tree, it's long branches blowing slightly in the breeze.  
  
"There you are, fool! D'you know we've been looking for you all morning! You missed elevensies! And Lunch even!" Merry cried, hopping over a log to where he sat, his vest folded in his lap.  
  
"I found something much more interesting that food." He said simply, and the other two hobbits did a double take. Something more important that food???  
  
"Well what is it then? I can't think of anything more important to you than food!" Sam cried, exasperated at Pippin's unusually quiet mood.  
  
Pippin motioned them closer, and as they knelt beside him, he took his vest and unfolded one side. Sam gasped and Merry blinked, amazed, as they looked upon the silvery light - with wings - that lay curled up in Pippin's vest.  
  
"What is it?" Sam asked, bringing a hand over to touch it. The wings fluttered, and he snatched his hand away, whether afraid to touch it or hurt it he couldn't tell himself.  
  
"It's a faërie, you dolt!" Pippin said knowingly, rolling his eyes.  
  
"How do you know?" Merry shot back.  
  
"Well, one day, you probably remember, Merry, when I. well, accidentally broke all mother's dishes. Gandalf was in town, and she thought that sending me to him would be plenty enough punishment. But Gandalf instead starting telling me stories, and one was about faëries. They sounded wonderful, the way he described them. 'as innocent and playful as hobbits, but much more timid. They look somewhat like elves, and they can shrink to the size of an apple, glowing like lights of red, green, and all other colours.' I was interested in them, and he said he had once had the pleasure of meeting a couple."  
  
"Well, it sounds right. and there were rumours." Sam admitted.  
  
"So what are you going to do with it. well, he, she, whatever?"  
  
"I don't know. It hasn't left me since this morning, when I saw it while going for a walk. Darn scared of the elves, though, every time I passed them it would try to hide."  
  
"D'you think we should just let it follow? We do need to be getting back." Merry said, and they all stood, Pippin still gingerly holding the light wrapped in the cloth. The light dimmed slowly, turning darker, and a flash later it was gone, though not without being replaced by someone different.  
  
"That-it's- . Aíca???" they all cried, turning and looking at the small girl, seeming much smaller than before, clutching Pippin's vest around her shoulders.  
  
"You're the faërie everyone's been talking about!"  
  
"Scratch that, you are a faërie! HA FINALLY, WE KNOW WHAT YOU REALLY ARE!!!" Merry cried, laughing. She blushed and turned back to Pippin, taking the vest that hung over her shoulders.  
  
"Thank you very much, Pippin. I needed someone to make me feel more comfortable around here." She said, handing him his vest.  
  
"Can you do that again?" he asked, his excited voice a little higher than usual. She blushed again a deep red and swatted him playfully on the arm.  
  
"So there, you know what I am now. happy? Could you just, um. not tell anyone else? Please??? I don't want anyone knowing that, especially the elves around here, and Boromir doesn't know yet, lets keep it that way. oh, please???" she begged them, her round eyes worried as she looked to each one in turn.  
  
"Sure, I guess. why keep it a secret? I think it's wicked that you just did that, and you can fly??? What I wouldn't give to be able to do that!" Pippin said excitedly, and the others nodded. Haíthwen smiled gratefully.  
  
"Well, lets go back to the other's, and on the way, if you all promise that you'll not breathe a word of this to another soul, living or dead, I'll tell you some stories."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"To go or not to go?" Haíthwen asked herself aloud as she sat on the edge of a very high platform, hundreds of feet above the ground.  
  
Well, if I go. I'll be helping Aragorn. Truth be told, he is a strong leader, and will no doubt go on to accomplish great things. but he does not realize so. He is lost after the loss of Gandalf, and since he knows not what Gandalf planned to do after LothLórien. He is faithful to Frodo, and I know his heart well enough that he will follow him to Mordor though Hell may bar the way. He does not know exactly how he should deal with the hobbits sometimes, but that's only because Pippin's such a cutie. they are a handful. I'm not sure about Frodo. not that I doubt him, in fact he may be our last and best hope, but I believe the Burden will change him. as it changes others with whom it is surrounded by.  
  
But I cannot enter Mordor. though I wish it wholeheartedly to be of any assistance to the Ringbearer, one) I have not the will or heart to enter Mordor and forsake my people, two) it would only draw the Eye of Sauron to Frodo and the Ring, if I were to accompany them.  
  
If I was to go to Minas Tirith, should the path lead south. I must be strong, but the race of Men scares the living daylights out of me! Sooner or later I would be found out. and Father knows what Men would do to a Faë should I be discovered. Aragorn, and Legolas and Gimli, they would protect me, perhaps, should that come to pass, but surely not forever. and Boromir I should not trust farther that I can throw him with my own strength. there is just something about him of which I fear, whether for my own safety or the Fellowships. maybe I am being too hasty? I have not really talked to him, nor him with me, and perhaps I was too quick to judge. I suppose I should try. No guarantees.  
  
But if I was to not go. would I stay here? No, I wish not to rest here ever again. LothLórien is no longer my home, not since my child passed away, and it shall forever be a lost memory. but I can not go near the mountains, for Saruman watches them with too keen an eye. The forests no longer are safe. could I return to my homeland? I fear it too ravaged for my heart to bear, perhaps further North? I know the Dúnedain, enough to pass along and continue further north. or maybe Greylin? Too close to Angmar? Grr! I need to find Cemendur, he would know where to go.  
  
"Lórëala!" a loud voice scared me out of my thoughts for a moment, and I whirled around, to see Boromir, of all people, standing behind me a ways, looking rather impatient and annoyed, I quickly rose to my feet. "We've been searching for you for a while now." He said briskly, looking around.  
  
"My apologies," I said, trying to remain polite to him as I said I would, "Is there a problem?"  
  
He looked me over a moment before rubbing his chin, studying me for some reason. "We are holding a council to help decide which course to take when we depart from this wood. Aragorn requests," and there was some way about how he chose his words that unnerved me, "your opinion in the matter."  
  
"I'm very sorry, Lord, I suppose we should return at once?" I asked, forcing a smile and walking towards then past him and down the stairway. I could feel his eyes burning into my head as we descended, could feel my wings shudder underneath the cloak I wore and the hairs on my neck stand on end.  
  
I used all the strength I had to endure it.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	10. X Nuruhuine

I made a promise, and I'm-a gonna keep it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter X Nuruhuinë  
  
[ Death-shadow ]  
  
So it was set. In less than one week, Aragorn would lead the Fellowship, Haíthwen included, out of LothLórien and down the river Anduin.  
  
While the others gathered items and supplies they needed for the voyage, Haíthwen sat alone, thinking. She thought a lot, and very frequently, and this was good. Seeing that this was good, she rested. Then she woke, then she thought again. The thinking was all good, and Haíthwen was happy. She separated the thinking from the not thinking, and was pleased again. She then said, 'let there be thought.' She made the thought, and said 'let the thought be in the head'. And so the thoughts were formed in the head. Then Haíthwen ended the thought, and thought again that she had done good. And she was pleased.  
  
Where in all nine hells am I going with this? Of all the half-assed, dumber than a doorknob things I do to occupy my time with, I quote.... That's what I get from hanging around blondes for thousands of years.  
  
She laughed slightly and picked herself up from the rock she was sitting on, and wandered through the woods. I've been thinking about him a lot recently, but why? A shiver ran through her back as she looked to the night sky, only just realizing that it was indeed night. I gave my word to Aragorn that I would return before nightfall! Shit! She screamed at herself mentally as she took off running through the woods, back towards the fellowship.  
  
What day was it today? She asked herself as she found the path and slowed to a quick walk. Yesterday was. which means. today is.  
  
She slapped her forehead, realizing that this was to be her last night in LothLórien before departing. She groaned and continued on, knowing that she would get a talking to from Aragorn for being late. Not that she minded that, just that Aragorn certainly did not need to worry about her on top of other things.  
  
It's like Cemendur used to say. she paused that thought as another chill, this time more violent, send shudders through her being. Something was wrong. but what?  
  
She staggered suddenly, face paling. She closed her eyes, a sweat breaking out on her forehead. Her eyes widened, and she doubled over and gasped in pain.  
  
* No.* Haíthwen thought, her now green-violet swirled eyes wide and open, but not seeing or hearing anything. "No!" She screeched.  
  
Pain, fear, extreme anguish, and terror swirled around her, completely covering her, drowning her. She was curled up into as tight a ball as she could manage, tears streaming down her face, despite the fact that her eyes were squeezed shut. She ached and burned all over, and nothing she could do could shunt away the hurt. Then, as quickly as it had come, the misery and anguish fled.  
  
The gaping void in its place was almost worse than the plain itself. Flooding through her were memories, flashes of pictures that went with the pain. Orcs, black and hideous, chains and knives, screams and cries; they all washed through her, through someone else's eyes. And in the middle of it. Cemendur, chained and bound, bleeding from numerous gashes and cuts, burns all across his body.  
  
Haíthwen was aware of a scream, her own?, and was aware of the world spinning around her, threatening to crash down on her.  
  
Unaware went the fact that the dark night around her was lit up by hundreds of shimmering, prismatic lights, pyreflies, flying in the air. Unaware was she of a green glyph, glowing through the grass beneath her knees, or as a ghostly figure, a male with long blonde spiky hair and brilliant jade eyes sat down beside her, wrapping her in an unseen and unfelt embrace. She heard or felt no more as the world finally overthrew her, and she slipped into unconsciousness.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Galadriel felt the power in her Forest, strange and green, and knew immediately what was happening. Already on her way to converse with Aragorn, she gathered him, along with Legolas, and bid them follow her to the source of the surge in magic.  
  
It was there that they found Haíthwen, long overdue to return to sleep. But what, or per say who they found with her, that raised more questions and concerns.  
  
"Cemendur." Galadriel acknowledged, nodding her head to the soft moonlit figure that held the sleeping form of Haíthwen in his arms, stroking her hair softy. The only trace that he was anything but an elf were the green translucent wings that ran through his shirt, and the multifaceted shimmering rainbow orbs that floated around the pair.  
  
"I never wished this to ensue her." He said solemnly, a young voice belying the knowing look in his eyes as he turned his head slightly. Wisps of spiky blond hair over fell his jade eyes, as his young eyes fell to her again, who still had tears running down her cheeks.  
  
"It's all up to her now. It should never have been. I should have been stronger." He said, unmoving.  
  
Galadriel moved to his side, and slowly put her hand to his shoulder. Aragorn couldn't help but gape as her hand passed through his arm, leaving a green mist where his arm was before returning to his proper form.  
  
"So it's true. The race of the Faë has passed on."  
  
"I cannot stay forever." He said sadly, nodding, smoothing a strand of silver hair from Haíthwen's eyes. Galadriel nodded.  
  
"Be at peace, Olvaralië." She said. He nodded and rose, Haíthwen still in his arms as if she weighed not anything but a feather to him. He handed her over to Legolas, who was cautious not to let her fall from his care. Cemendur looked at her again, studying her face as if it were the last time to see it, and turned away, sighing.  
  
"The things I should have said. I hope she never . I have to go back now." He said, a ghostly silhouette dissolving into pyreflies, their lights dancing upwards, fading away into the starry night.  
  
Galadriel said nothing to them as she stared up to the sky, then closed her eyes and looked away. Such sad resignation on her face made Aragorn and Legolas both wonder if they knew the whole story surrounding the events that happened, but neither had the wish or the will to ask.  
  
"Let her rest for the night that remains; in the morning, she will depart with you." Galadriel said evenly, walking away slowly.  
  
"You would will her to continue?" Aragorn asked, confused and slightly worried for the response.  
  
"She wills herself to continue; nothing you nor I might say will advise against her. She is strong of heart, she will endure." She said, almost coldly, but she glanced back at Haíthwen, lying curled into Legolas' chest, a look of motherly dismay in her eyes; as if she, too, in all her power and knowledge, could do nothing to help.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Legolas looked over the sleeping Haíthwen, asleep on her side and curled into a ball. Aragorn had volunteered to watch over her during the night, but Legolas could see the exhaustion in his eyes, and made sure he slept, rested and ready for the next day, their last day there.  
  
As Haíthwen shifted in her sleep, burying her head in her arms, Legolas wondered if that was the right thing to do, him having counted this the third nightmare during the four hours he had watched over her.  
  
She seemed so frightened in her sleep; as if the realm of dream threw everything it could to her to hinder rest. Legolas wondered briefly of it was simply her mind's work or perhaps the Ring's influence that plagued the so-very-few times he had seen her try to rest.  
  
Wishing he could do something to help her, anything, he could only watch as she writhed under her blankets, hiding from a world she could not escape till she awakened.  
  
Eyes shut furiously against the world, tears still managed to escape down her cheeks; suddenly her eyes opened and she shot up, trembling and breathless.  
  
Legolas' heart was torn ; as her eyes, horror-struck and hysterical, shot around, anxiously searching for the next danger to her. "What's wrong?"  
  
Tears spilled down her cheeks unchecked again, and Legolas gathered her into his arms, murmuring soothing words. She collapsed into his embrace, her tears soaking into his tunic. She curled up against him, sobs shaking her shoulders uncontrollably.  
  
He was worried, and looked to Aragorn for help, wishing he wasn't asleep, leaving him alone to deal with her. Never have I seen her this shaken up before. he thought, as he looked down to her. What should I do? Never had he so much as worried about women, never mind crying ones; but there was no way he could ignore this one, seeming so broken and vulnerable.  
  
Legolas held her, rubbing her back comfortingly. He waited until he thought she'd calmed down enough before he asked her again, almost afraid of making her cry again. Tis the last thing I wish to do, make her cry or recall something painful...  
  
"Haíthwen." he whispered, "Haíthwen, what happened?"  
  
She turned a tear-streaked face to him, her bright violet eyes welling with tears. "I." she sniffed, "I. don't know."  
  
He waited patiently for her to continue.  
  
"It was like. I wasn't even here. I was watching through someone else's eyes, and feeling their pain," She finally had control of her voice, and a few tears slipped past her guard and trickled down her cheeks. "Every nerve exploded with pain, and."  
  
Legolas' heart almost broke at her sad expression; the corners of her mouth turned down slightly, and tears trickled down her cheeks; she looked so broken, so helpless that his heart went out to her. What I would give to stop her from hurting, to make her smile and laugh again.  
  
He gently caressed her cheek, swiping at the tears sliding down her cheeks. "Don't cry." he whispered. "Everything will be fine."  
  
Haíthwen struggled against a new wave of tears, pulling away from him like she'd just been stung. Her bottom lip trembled. "How can you say that? You don't even know if you'll live to see tomorrow!"  
  
Legolas sighed, his fingers smoothing her tousled pale hair. "No. No, you're right, I do not know that, and I should not have said that. But, I know that having you here with me is good enough for now, and I don't need to worry about tomorrow."  
  
He didn't exactly know why he said what he did, but it mattered not since it got the response he wished for. She buried her face in his neck, throwing her arms around him. They stayed in that embrace for several long moments, until curiosity got the best of Legolas.  
  
"Haíthwen?" he whispered.  
  
"Hmm?" she mumbled softly, pulling away from him just enough to be able to look him in the eye.  
  
He shifted slightly. "What was it you dreamt of?"  
  
She managed for a moment not to look extremely depressed, and instead, she looked wistful. "I. it was from my bond with Cemendur. It was his death."  
  
She shivered, which then turned to trembling, and he pulled her back into his chest, wrapping his arms around her. She collapsed into his chest, her breathing still uneven but calmer than earlier. She stayed like that for some time, not wanting to move or Legolas wishing her to.  
  
After time, her breaths became deep and even, and Legolas looked down to find her asleep, curled in his hold. He tried to move her back down to her blanket, but found she held tighter to his chest when he tried to move. He sighed and leaned against the tree to his back, where he actually found himself comfortable. He draped a blanked over her, and let her sleep where she lay.  
  
Part of him wondered what the morning would bring, another wondered what the others would think if they saw him and Haíthwen as they were, and another part of him wished they could just lay there forever.  
  
  
  
The end. Well, no, not really. [are you kidding? I'm just getting started!]  
  
Meh. I'm really not any good at this. Anyone wanna help? Please, I am on my knees begging! Pwease?!?!  
  
How bout some flames??? Anyone??? *crickets* aw man. is anyone there??? 


	11. XI Lenémë ná Altáriel

**Chapter XI**

Lenémë ná Altáriel with Galadriel's leave

* * *

Galadriel motioned for each of the elves to approach the Fellowship, and I watched, leaning with my arms crossed against a nearby tree, as they passed gifts to each of the members. Aragorn received a sheath for Andúril, Sam a box of Galadriel's blessed earth from her own garden, Boromir, Merry and Pippin golden belts, Gimli three strands of the Lady's golden hair (which amused even myself; who knew he could be so humble, to an elf, even?), and Legolas a strong new bow and a new quiver full with arrows. To Frodo she gave a crystal vial that glowed with light: even I did not know what it was, until she spoke of the star's light from which it came. Wow, to receive a gift such as that. Hope Frodo realizes how valuable it is, but he seems to. He's speechless.

I did not wish for anything or even realize that _I_ was to receive any gifts till Galadriel walked up to me as well. "You as well ask for nothing. Surely there must be something your heart wishes for." She said calmly, and most eyes fell upon myself as they all waited for me to say something.

For a moment I thought of all the things I wished for, things that were both trivial and significant at the same time. Friends lost, things destroyed, items that would help on a journey, small trinkets, a small doll I had when I was 500…I sighed as I realized that even had either Galadriel or myself had the power to return all of these things, they would do nothing to help me or the rest of the fellowship greatly. No, the things I really wanted I had already received: all I wanted from the elves was to know how they felt about me, I guess, whether it is good or bad.

_There are many things my heart wishes for, Amilielle, and I wish there a being that had the power to grant them. But I can ask nothing from you that you have not already given me, and for that I am most thankful._ I thought at her (which sounds absurd, I know, but how else to say it?), shaking my head as I looked to the ground. As I looked back up, she gave me another small smile, and her eyes gleamed.

Well met, my dear one.

"Then I hope you can accept a small trinket from myself, for I wish not to send you off into the unknown unarmed to protect yourself and those around you." She returned, and held out a long item, wrapped in a dark blue cloth. I cautiously took it; for hell, who was I to tell if it was breakable or not? I felt the hard surface and shape of it and knew immediately what _it_ was.

Hmm… I thought crudely. Obvious… yet, subtle. Unnecessary, but needed… _neat!_

I slowly unwrapped the cloth, and in my hands I held a long, wide sword, larger than most traditional swords. Inside an intricately carved mithril scabbard lay a gleaming blade, lined along the edges with a sharp aqua-coloured crystal. Normally, one would expect a sword to be all metal, but this was a sword that must have been forged ages ago by none other than the Rámainenórë.

It was beautiful, almost as if it hummed from its core. Wonderfully light it was, much lighter than one would have though just upon looking at it, for indeed it was almost as tall as one of the hobbits.

T'was a great heirloom in the days of old when your people lived here. Only the hand of one of your bloodline can wield it. It will strengthen you in battle, for it also is a vessel for Magi. Much more of its powers I know not, but it calls to be held by one destined for grandeur.

I sheathed it quickly, holding it tightly as I looked up at Galadriel. All of a sudden, a wave of doubt and nausea flooded me, and I almost turned back from going along with the fellowship. Not the idea of Orks or Mordor or even the influence of the Ring made me think twice, but in the moment I realized exactly what the sword in my hand was, the second I held what little remained of my heritage… I was frightened. Terrified. All the screams and pain I had felt recently engulfed me, not wanting me to go on, waiting for my failure…

_STOP!_ Galadriel's mind rang throughout my thoughts, and I suddenly snapped out of reverie. I was still in LothLórien, Galadriel was still standing here, and the Fellowship was still waiting to depart, presumably with me. The sky was still blue, my friends almost ready to go, and Gandalf still dead. Why was I surprised to remember all this? What had happened?

_You let your fears and doubts cloud your mind. Know that it can only get worse whilst journeying with the Bearer of the One Ring. If you feel you should not go, speak now._

I swallowed hard, forcing down the lump that suddenly found its way into my throat. I tightened my hand around the hilt of the sword. I nodded and pulled the sword over my shoulder, tightening the strap that held it to my back. Cemendur gave his life protecting others, why should my life be used selfishly?

"I will use everything in my power to aid those in need, my Lady," I said, my voice sounding as confident as I could make it, even though my hands still threatened to tremble.

"Of course you will." She said motherly, and stroked my hair, which I had decided needed to be brought out of my eyes, so was braided in two plaits down the sides of my head and tucked around it. She smiled her prominent smile, one that warmed all hearts that looked upon it, perhaps even my own had I not the foreshadowing of the journey I had agreed to set out on.

"We cannot delay your quest any longer." Celeborn said, and gave directions to the fellowship on the best course to follow for travelling the river Andúin.

As they listened, I closed my eyes, not thinking, just feeling everything inside me and around me. I had no idea what I was doing, but before I could stop myself, I turned back to Galadriel.

"Do you still love me?"

As her usual smiles are beautiful beyond words, this one was beautiful beyond all comprehension, and she looked to me as she did so long ago, before everything. I didn't need to hear an answer, the emotions I felt from her would have put any words to shame. I felt a burned lift, and turned towards the docks.

I don't think it really dawned on any of the Fellowship that they were really leaving until they reached and seated themselves in the boats, but I did notice the change in everyone's attitudes as the boats were pushed away from the docks and we took up paddles. Frodo looked the worst for wear, creases of worry upon his brow as we all took our last glances at the fair wood.

I knew that I would never see the woods again, that this was the last of their beauty to behold, but the knowledge didn't pain me as I thought it should have. It left me numb; like this was the end.

I suppose it was.

* * *

"Aíca, what do you think's gonna happen to us next?" Pippin asked. Aíca leaned up from the bottom of the boat and looked at Pippin, then around at the others as they floated steadily down the Anduin. Aragorn, Sam and Frodo had taken one boat, and were ahead of the other two boats. Gimli, Boromir, and the bulk of the supplies were in the next, and Pippin, Merry, Legolas and herself were in the boat trailing a little behind the others.

"Well, do you mean in the grand scheme of events, or in the next short while?" She asked, leaning back again against her pack.

"Let's start with the next short while and make our way from there, shall we?"

"As sound a plan as I've ever heard, my dear," she said playfully, and smiled at the grin that plastered the two hobbits' faces and the slight twitch of Legolas' lips.

"For starters: We are in a boat. We shall continue to be in a boat for some time, paddling and getting quite sick of the water. When it feels like we've forgotten what land feels like underneath our feet, Aragorn will decide that we shall stop for the night. Gimli will start fights with our lone elf, Boromir will try to shut him up, threats will ensue, and Sam will be the hero of the day by knocking out the bickering men with his frying pan."

Not one of the hobbits could say a word for a moment, before bursting out in hysterics which for a moment led her to believe they would tip the boat had it not been made by elves.

"Well, I didn't think it was _that_ funny…" she mumbled.

"Well, no, but can't you just picture it? It would be like the books we used to read when we were little, with all the drawings!" Pippin cried.

"And the pictures were always so silly, with stars over the head if you got hurt and X's for eyes, and then you can just think of Gimli or Boromir knocked out on the ground with huge red bumps over their heads where they were hit and stars circling their heads!"

She didn't quite know what they were referring to, having never read a hobbit child's book, but she laughed simply at their exuberance. Even Legolas laughed.

She glanced at Merry, who had stopped giggling and had a forlorn look on his face.

"This will end, won't it?" he asked, his voice quiet. He kept paddling, but she noticed the slight trembling in his hands, and took the paddle from him, giving it to Pippin. She pulled him down to the bottom of the boat, hugging him as they laid there looking up at the sky, which had turned slightly cloudy.

"Merry, nothing is forever. What's the oldest thing you know?"

"I don't know… probably Legolas. Or Galadriel, she's old for an elf, isn't she?"

"She is, though it's impolite to talk about a Lady's age." She smiled, and could feel him relax a little more against her. "Elves are very old creatures, Merry. They do not age as hobbits or men do. But how can you kill an elf?"

"In battle?" His voice was unsure, timid, and she rubbed his arm reassuringly.

"You are right. They can die in battle. Not even elves last forever. The whole world is changing. Right now even more so. But things do come about full circle, don't they? If you burn a field, eventually trees and plants will grow again, won't they?"

"That's right! And when they do, they grow better, cause they get a fresh start." He said matter of fact.

"My, you're a smart one. I like that in hobbits. So, even though things look bad right now, and it seems like nothing is staying the same, we all will have a fresh start, won't we?"

"I guess so. It doesn't sound very pleasant, though." He looked up at her as a strong shudder ran through her body, and her face crumpled unpleasantly in a grimace.

"Neither are mushrooms pleasant, but you hobbit's seem very keen on eating them."

"Hey! Don't knock them until you've tried them! Honestly, that's blasphemy, is what that is!"

"No thank you. You can have all the mushrooms I can pick for you when this is all over!" She smiled again, leaning back and letting her eyes close. The two hobbits were quite content to carry on about the merits of 'Mushrooms, the food of Kings!' as Merry and Pippin referred to them as, and she let them talk to their hearts content, partially listening to their animated discussion. While she couldn't shake off the sense of foreboding that seemed to be in the air, she also knew that Aragorn would stop them in a short time to rest, which lightened her spirits.

Legolas, silent during their discussions, couldn't help but notice the worry in Haíthwen's eyes as she listened in part to the conversation. While he admired the way that she had attempted to ease Merry's fears, a part of him knew that she was also trying to convince herself of her own words.

Pippin asked her to sing a song, and, seemingly too tired to refuse, she sang soothing melodies the rest of the journey, until they finally stopped to shore the boats and rest.

* * *

Author's note: I could begin by saying sorry for not updating for such a long time, but… I'm kind of not. I haven't written anything in so long because of grade twelve workload, and then that workload doubled with first year University, and then tripled with second year.

I will apologize for not keeping up with this story, as I should have, though. I'm scared that this story, how it's written, is too different from the style in which I wrote it almost three years ago. I've also forgotten most of the smaller details of the Tolkien universe, especially the language. If anyone wants to help me, as a beta or just offering your opinion, I would greatly appreciate it.

Ciao


End file.
